Three Men and a Little Lady
by reddhede
Summary: It began with Dean doing Cas a simple favor. That favor came in the form of a tiny, badass brunette with a... complicated past that would change both the Winchesters' lives.
1. Chapter 1

"Jesus!" Dean exclaimed, nearly running the Impala off the road as his body jerked in surprise at the unexpected presence that had teleported into the front seat next to him.

"I am Castiel," he clarified unnecessarily.

"Damnit, I know that, Cas." He had swerved back onto the asphalt. Again in control of his vehicle, Dean gave the angel an irritated sidelong glare. "What are you doing here?"

Cas had been MIA for weeks, and Dean was still slightly irked at him for not coming to heal him when he'd been bedridden with a demonic flu virus. Alright, so there was nothing particularly demonic about the sickness, but it still sucked ass and he was at least 80% sure that the demon world was somehow responsible.

"I… have a favor to ask." Castiel tried to keep his requests from the humans to a minimum, but he had more on his plate than he could handle at the moment.

"Yeah, Cas, sure. Anything." He'd saved their asses more times than Dean could count; he was allowed to ask for a hand every now and then.

"There is a girl," he started to explain, but paused, trying to decide how much he should reveal.

"Ah, my kinda favor." Dean winked at his best friend and waggled his eyebrows. "First of all, you gotta do something about that face."

"What's wrong with my face?"

"You look like you're constipated all the damn time. Lighten up a little."

"Your mortal body would disintegrate in the light of my grace."

"Dude, not literally. And oh – please, for the love of god get rid of that trench coat."

Cas cocked his head to the side. "I do not believe my father's favor is dependent on an article of clothing."

Dean sighed. "It's an _expression_ , Cas," he explained with thinning patience. "Look, if you want to get this girl to like you –"

"She does like me. I have saved her life, several times already."

"Alright, Cas!" Dean punched him in the arm affectionately. "Playing the knight in shining armor card, I like it. Chicks love it. She got daddy issues?"

"More than she realizes," he muttered seriously.

"Awesome. Now I know you're new to this whole 'acting human' thing, but you know how sex works, right? Know where everything goes?" The topic weirded Dean out a little, but it was so worth it to see the sheer magnitude of discomfort radiating off of the heavenly being to his right.

"Who said anything about intercourse?"

"Oh right, you're probably a little old fashioned with the _courting_ process," he said with derision. "Want to take it slow."

"What? No. Dean, I think we're getting off topic."

Dean momentarily threw his hands off the wheel in surrender. "You're right, you're right. I won't judge."

"Dean, I'm not trying to bed her; I need you to protect her."

"Oh." He paused, thoughtful for a moment. "Could be doin' both though," he finally muttered, smirking as he remembered the many _grateful_ women he'd come across in the business of saving people.

Cas pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger; he was fairly certain that angels didn't get migraines, but somehow conversations with Dean always seemed to elicit an equivalent physiological response.

"I am playing multiple games of chess with numerous dangerous opponents at the moment. There are many moving pieces. She is one of them, which puts her in danger, and she needs to be kept safe. I need to keep her safe."

Dean bit his tongue against anymore euphemisms; Cas looked truly torn about having to pass this task off to someone else. "Sure, Cas. We'll keep her safe." Cas nodded in acknowledgement. "As soon as Sam gets back –"

"Just you," Cas interrupted.

"I'm sorry?"

Cas stumbled over his words for a moment. "This is very urgent, Dean. She is without protection at this very moment. We simply cannot wait for your brother."

The explanation seemed weak, and Cas was acting a little squirrely; Dean would have much preferred to wait for backup – things tended to go South when he didn't – but Sam was on a hunt and it could be days, weeks before he got back. If this girl was in as much danger as Cas was implying, then no, he probably couldn't wait. "So, wanna tell me how to find her?"

Cas breathed a sigh of relief and placed two fingers on Dean's forehead. He had just enough time to pull to the side of the road before his mind was flooded with images forced there by an outside source. He saw a map, a city, a building, an apartment number. The last image lingered on a petite brunette with sharp eyes that held a rebellious challenge.

"Damnit, Cas, warn me next time you're gonna do that!" he yelled, but his companion had already vanished from the car. "Guess I'm goin' to California," he said to himself, turning over the engine and pulling out onto the road. He looked around and realized that it wasn't the same road he'd been on five seconds earlier. "Or I'm already in California," he amended, the nauseous feeling that always accompanied teleportation roiling uncomfortably in his stomach.

He drove for another hour or so, following the directions Cas had implanted in his brain, until he pulled into the parking lot of a nondescript high rise. There were half a dozen of them in the complex, each identical to the next, but he somehow knew exactly which one to walk into, how many flights to go up, and which door to knock on.

The problem was, when he got to said door… there was nothing to knock on. The few splinters scattered around the threshold and the mangled pieces of metal that used to be the hinges were the only indication that there had even been a door there.

"Damnit." Dean pulled the gun from the base of his back and crouched low, keeping the weapon drawn as he peered into the room. The furniture was in tatters and there was glass – and a few bodies – strewn all over the floor. He compared them to the mental image he had of the girl, but none of them were a match. "Well that's somethin'."

There was a blood trail leading through the living room and into the kitchen. He reached down and pressed his fingers into the carpet; they came up crimson. The blood was fresh.

"Come out, come out wherever you are," Dean taunted, eyes darting around the seemingly empty apartment. He followed the line of drops until they disappeared around the corner and paused, sensing a trap. As if on cue, a beast of a man leapt from the coat closet to his left, knocking the gun out of his hand and pinning him face first into the wall.

"Winchester," he greeted, eyes flashing black as he rammed Dean's head into the wall once, twice; the third time, stars began to dance across his vision.

"How do all you damn demons keep finding these –oof," another blow to his skull, "friggin' linebackers to possess?" Dean used the wall as leverage to push himself back and into the imposing demon. They both tumbled backward, but Dean's smaller size allowed him to maneuver better. He tucked and rolled over the man and unsheathed the demon blade he now habitually kept on his belt loop.

The demon reached out one of his massive arms and delivered a powerful shot to Dean's kidney. "This one was a boxer," he explained with delight as Dean doubled over in pain. With the second blow – a knee to his already bent over face – the knife flew from his hands and out of sight, though he could hear it clanging across the kitchen floor.

"This isn't about you, Winchester. You can still walk out of here," the demon proposed, yanking Dean's head back painfully by his hair.

"Mmm, gotta take care of a little business first. You wanna tell me where the girl is, then we can talk." Dean watched as the demon's eyes flickered toward the kitchen, giving away her location without having to say a word. "Hey honey, is there any pie in there? This fight ain't gonna last long and I am starving," he called to her while simultaneously taunting the demon who was currently in a position to easily snap his neck. He had hoped she would respond with some sort of indication that she was alright, but his request was met with silence.

"Perhaps neither of us will get what we want today," the demon snarled, lifting Dean's body off the ground only to slam it back down several feet away.

Dean groaned and tried weakly to push himself off the ground, but his arms would not support him and he fell back with a thud. The demon stalked over to him at the same time the sound of metal scraping drew his attention toward the kitchen, which he had been thrown onto the threshold of. The demon blade was clattering toward him and he grabbed it, swinging his arm around his body and using the momentum to bury it to the hilt between the demon's ribs.

"Speak for yourself, gigantor."

Dean slowly pushed himself to a standing position, swaying slightly until his sense of balance stabilized, and took a few steps into the kitchen. The girl was standing at the far corner of the room, and there was a large chef's knife poised at her neck. When Dean took another step forward, the demon knife still in his hand and dripping with the evidence of its last kill, the demon holding her hostage pressed the blade into her skin hard enough to draw a thin layer of blood that beaded and streaked down in stark contrast to her pale skin.

"Easy, now," Dean soothed, holding his own weapon out to the side to indicate his submission.

"Drop it."

"Well that would put me at a distinct disadvantage, now, wouldn't it?" Dean ventured another step into the room.

"Drop it or she dies."

Dean looked between the demon and the girl. She looked… very calm about the whole thing. Aside from a small hiss that escaped her lips following the initial pain of the laceration, everything about her demeanor radiated a passive indifference. Her eyes, however, were tactful, appraising, scanning the room and the situation and playing out possible scenarios.

"Yeah, I don't think so," Dean guessed, judging by the way the demon shrank back behind the human in fear; it had possessed a woman – even smaller and weaker than the one she was holding hostage. "See, I think Dwayne Johnson over there," he pointed to the still form of the demon's companion, "was the muscle, the bodyguard. You're the brains here, and you know damn well that the one chance you got of getting out of here alive is that girl you're hiding behind." He took another step and in a flash the demon had moved the blade from her neck to just below her navel.

Dean watched as the girl's mask of stoicism faltered; her eyes widened and mouth popped open in an 'o' as she sucked in a breath. She recovered quickly, though she couldn't completely hide the tight set to her jaw or the anger that now burned behind her eyes.

"Careful now; I can still get what I came for," it hissed triumphantly.

"Maybe," Dean acknowledged; Cas had been a little skimpy on the details as to why exactly this girl was such a magnet for all things dangerous. "But in the end, you're all the same. Given the choice, you'll always save your own ass."

"You don't know me, boy." The demon slid the tip of the knife about half an inch into her flesh; to its disappointment, the only reaction it got was slight tremble from its hostage and an angry glare from the hunter. "Scream for me, whore," it whispered, slicing into her a little deeper.

At this, she hunched over, curling in on herself as a high-pitched whine was forced from her throat; the demon smiled victoriously. Almost doubled over, the girl was leaning close enough to the island to snatch a small paring knife from its surface. In one swift move, she planted her feet firmly and threw herself backwards with as much force as she could generate, slamming the demon into the wall of cabinets at her back and jamming her small blade into its thigh.

The demon keened and loosened its grip on her enough for her to spin out of its grasp, rolling to the side. It was back on top of her in an instant, pinning her back against the ground. She struggled with the tiny arms that were bearing down on her with demonic strength, the blade hovering inches above her heart. "Would you stab this bitch already?" she grunted, tucking her knees up, driving her heels into the floor, and bucking her hips to the side with enough force to throw the demon off of her.

Dean had been standing in shock; one minute he had been exchanging not-so-witty banter with the thing, and the next they're in an all-out brawl.

"Don't have to ask me twice," he muttered, shaking himself out of his stupor. He ran over and the demon swiped and slashed at him with its large blade. Dean dodged and pivoted away from the thrusts. The girl came up behind it and whacked the back of its knife-wielding hand with a cast iron pan. Weaponless, and without leverage, it pushed him back – knocking the knife from his hand as well – and made a run for it.

He was about to run after it when something whizzed right by his ear. The demon blade flew over his shoulder and landed deep in the demon's back. It arched and a red light sparked beneath its skin, signaling the demon's demise.

The girl walked past Dean, kicking the lifeless form for good measure before bending down and yanking the knife back out of the body. "I have got to get me one of these," she marveled, examining the weapon from all angles before offering it back to Dean.

Dean cleared his throat, taking the knife and sliding it back into place at his side. "Uh, hey there," he said by way of introduction. "I'm, uh…" How did he explain who he was and why he was there?

"Dean. I know." She smiled, clearly amused at his disorientation.

"You do?"

"Yeah. Castiel did the –" she took her middle and index finger and placed them in the center of her forehead, then jerked her head back as if recoiling from a headshot.

"Then maybe you can tell me what I'm doing here exactly," Dean sighed in frustration.

"Yeah, not much one for words that one, is he?" she mused with an affectionate tone. "I'm Allison." She held out her hand and he shook it; her grip was strong and deliberate.

"So, Allison, who'd you kill to end up on their shit list?" he asked genially, following her into the living room and retrieving his gun along the way. "And where'd you learn to throw a knife like that?" She retrieved a packed bag – which was only slightly in tatters – from beside the couch; Dean whistled in appreciation as they stepped around the demon's corpse on their way to the door.

"You can't?"

Dean smirked. "My style is more… hand-to-hand." Or fist-to-face, knife-to-throat; however you wanted to put it.

"Ah. Well, for those of us who are incapable of walking around with 200 pounds of hard muscle on their tiny frames, we must learn to develop other skills. Like those that require… strategy and expertise." She paused in her stride and gazed at him expectantly.

"I do believe I have been insulted," he scoffed, feigning offense.

They continued their repartee down the stairs and into the parking lot until she stopped outside the passenger door of the Impala, waiting for him to walk over to the driver's side.

"How did you…" he began; she tapped her forehead again. "Ah. Right." They each slid into the car through their respective doors and slammed them shut behind them. He put his hands on the steering wheel, but realized belatedly that he had no destination. "Do you know where we're going?"

Allison looked over at him and pursed her lips. "I'm thinking lunch. Are you hungry? I'm hungry. Do you like burgers? There's this great place just outside the city. It's a little off the beaten path, but their duck fat fries…"

"No, I mean, like, after that." He was actually starving, and a double bacon cheeseburger sounded pretty damn good at the moment. But whatever house she'd been holed up in was obviously blown now, so he wasn't exactly sure what to do with her.

"Oh. I just… well Castiel said that you knew a place that was like a fortress. Like, that was off the grid and protected against all kinds of demons and angels, full of weapons, and that I could stay there until…" Dean had a bewildered expression on his face; Cas wanted him to take her back to the _bunker_? That was their _home_. "He really didn't tell you any of this, did he?"

"Uh, let's just say Cas and I are gonna have a long discussion about his communication skills when he gets back." He started to turn the key into the ignition when Allison reached out and squeezed his forearm; her eyebrows were drawn together and she was worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. "Something I should know?"

"Dean, I know… I know you're here because Castiel asked you to be."

"Teleported my ass across state lines to be here, yeah."

"But I don't think you really… you don't know what you're getting yourself into."

"Not an uncommon occurrence." The Winchesters always seemed to be the first in the fire, and the last to know why. "You could start by filling me in on some of the details," he suggested. He hadn't even learned her name before he'd had to save her life.

"See, there's this prophecy –"

"Goddamn prophesies," Dean spat, interrupting. He looked up toward the heavens and narrowed his eyes. "Can't you dicks just mind your own damn business?"

Allison's lips twitched in the beginnings of a smile. "I guess you're familiar with the concept?"

Dean lolled his head to the side to give her an exasperated look. "Intimately. So what about _your_ pain-in-the-ass prophesy has everyone's panties in a twist?"

Allison cleared her throat and shifted uncomfortably. "I don't really… I don't understand it."

She was lying; Dean knew it, but he didn't call her out on it. He was still a stranger to her, and she'd already almost died once that day; he didn't fault her for being a little evasive. "Probably something lost in the Enochian-English translation." She cocked her head in confusion. "Angel language. Not important."

When her stomach grumbled loudly, Allison placed her hand over it, hissing in pain as she grazed the wound incurred from the fight that she'd nearly forgotten about; there had been so many lately.

"Hey, maybe we should get that looked at," he suggested, pointing toward the small puncture. It appeared to have stopped bleeding, but it had been a pretty deep cut.

"I'm fine."

"It'll just be a couple stitches, maybe a tetanus shot –"

"I said it's nothing!" she barked, wrapping her arms defensively around her torso.

"Fine, fine. Jesus." Dean threw up his hands in surrender. "But if you die from an infection, that is 100% on you," he warned, pointing an accusatory finger at her before starting the engine and peeling out of the parking space.

Allison was silent for a while, curled in on herself and angled away from Dean. He had assumed she was just mad at him, but when he glanced over at her she was fast asleep. With his cheeseburger GPS now snoring sweetly next to him, he realized that he was again at a loss for a destination. Despite what Cas had promised her, he would not take her back to the bunker without finding out a few more things. He took meandering highways and scenic routes to pass the time, driving without really going anywhere and waiting for the chance to get her talking again.

Dean had driven hundreds of miles, stopping for gas and snacks twice, and she had only stayed awake for a few minutes at a time. By the time his eyes glazed over and he decided it was time to stop for the night, he considered the possibility that she was sick or had been drugged or something.

"Hey," he shook her shoulder, gently at first and then with increasing urgency. "Hey, we're stopping for the night." He had already rented a room and parked outside of the nicest cheap motel he could find. One step above crack house was standard for him, but somehow it seemed wrong for him to bring Allison there.

"Hmm?" She stretched and rubbed at her eyes, the dim streetlights providing enough light to make her squint. "Oh. Yeah, of course. You look exhausted."

He would have laughed, but he was achy and stiff from sitting in the same position for so long after the fight that afternoon, and he just wanted a few hours of sleep. After a quick scan of the mostly empty parking lot, Dean determined that they were out of danger for the moment.

Dean entered the room and flicked on the light; Allison glanced at the sole queen-sized bed in the room and cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Ah, sorry. I told them two beds. Lemme just go –"

"It's alright, Dean," she said on a yawn; how could she possibly still be tired after sleeping so damn much? "I'll just sleep on the couch." She nodded toward the small, boxy loveseat next to the tv and he looked at her like she'd lost her mind. "Hey, you may be a giant, but I'm fun-sized. I can find a comfortable position almost anywhere." She folded her arms across her chest and gave him a little wink.

"Well you certainly settled into Baby pretty easily," he muttered, still slightly bitter at having driven aimlessly all day without company and without learning anything.

Allison's arms fell to her side and her eyes went wide. "What? What did—what was that? That you… just – What?"

"My car. You slept in my car." He spoke slowly and over enunciated. "A lot."

"Right, yes. I did, I did do that." She let out a forced and semi-hysterical laugh and again Dean was left to wonder about her mental state.

"You sure you're alright?"

"Mmhmm," she nodded. "Yeah, I'm just gonna –" Her eyes flicked toward the bathroom. "I need a shower."

Before Dean could respond or ask another question or maybe brush his damn teeth because he felt gross too! she scurried in and slammed the door shut behind her. The lock clicked into place and he sighed, running his hands down his face and casting his eyes up toward the ceiling. "What have you gotten me into, Cas?"


	2. Chapter 2

Despite his best intentions of totally being gentleman-like and letting Allison have the bed, Dean decided that it wouldn't hurt for him to doze on the mattress for a little while – just until she got out of the bathroom. He stirred when the water cut off, but when she still didn't emerge after several minutes he got concerned.

Dean padded up to the bathroom, but paused when he got close enough to hear the muffled sobs coming from behind the door. "Ah, hell," he muttered to himself before knocking softly. "You, uh…" She had obviously wanted to hide her emotional state from Dean, and he didn't want to embarrass her by calling her out on it. "You need anything?" It was a neutral enough question.

Allison hadn't intended to break into tears – certainly didn't want to appear that weak and pathetic to the trained hunter she was sharing a room with – but once they started, she couldn't seem to get them to stop. She tried to answer his question, but an unintelligible string of vowels was all that came out whenever she opened her mouth.

"Is everything alright?" he probed further when he didn't get a clear response. He really, really hoped this scene didn't end with him having to drive to the overnight drugstore for tampons and chocolate. He knocked again. "Allison, could you open the door for me?"

That was the last thing she wanted to do, but the gentleness in his tone was disarming and sweet. He was there to protect her, so of course locking herself in the bathroom would be cause for concern. Allison took a few shuddering breaths and pushed herself off the floor; luckily the mirror was still clouded with steam so she couldn't see just how red and puffy her face surely was.

Dean grimaced when he heard the lock click open, afraid of what he might find inside. Allison was wearing only the thin motel towel; she stared intently at the floor, shifting her weight from one foot to the other in the uncomfortable silence that followed. He could see angry bruises starting to blossom along her neck and arms, and everywhere he looked there were lacerations in all shapes and sizes, each in various stages of healing. God, what had this girl been through already?

He put his hands on her small upper arms and she flinched. "Sorry," he said, removing them quickly. Duh, she was injured – of course that would hurt.

Before he could be too hard on himself, Allison shook her head; the motion caused her still sopping hair to drip more water down her back and a chill ran through her. "Just c-cold," she explained. She hadn't realized it until coming in contact with his normal body temperature, but now she couldn't stop shivering.

Dean shrugged out of the jacket he'd never bothered to take off and wrapped it around her shoulders; it still held some of his warmth and the tremors quickly ceased.

"Thanks," she said with a contented sigh.

Dean lingered, waiting to see if she would give him an explanation. When she didn't, he cleared his throat. "You, uh, sure you're alright?"

Allison bit her lip and jerked her head to look at the floor again. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry. "I'm f—" She choked on the word and clasped a hand over her mouth to stifle the sob, but couldn't stop the moisture pooling in her eyes from falling down her cheeks.

He knew he wasn't going to get any coherent sentences out of her like this, so he simply closed the distance between them, wrapped his arms around her, and let her soak his t-shirt with her tears and towel and hair. It was kind of nice to be on this end for once – comforting the girl in distress, rather than being the cause of it – but he had to admit that he was the slightest bit inexperienced at it. Every time she paused and he thought he should say something, the waterworks would restart and he would go back to revising his pep talk.

Just when he thought she might die of dehydration, she gave one last sniffle and pulled away slightly. Allison frowned at Dean's soiled shirt; the mixture of wrinkles and moisture patterns looked something like a Rorschach test in the otherwise plain gray fabric. She traced the outlines of them with her fingertips and Dean tensed, trying to ignore the tingles of pleasure they left in their wake.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" he managed to ask through clenched teeth.

She shook her head, but the words spilled out of her anyway. "My mom died. Well, she was killed. Not too long ago. Right before…" She paused, and Dean wasn't sure whether Allison was collecting her thoughts or trying to come up with a lie. "And then it all just went to hell and I'm in the middle of some supernatural World War III and it's been weeks since I've been around anyone that doesn't want to kill me or isn't Castiel and I just—what?" Her little tirade was interrupted by the sound of Dean's poorly suppressed chuckle.

"I'm sorry, it's not funny, really." He coughed, trying to cover up the last remnants of his outburst. Allison's description was just so comically similar to the situation Dean found himself in on a semi-annual basis that he couldn't help but laugh. "It's just, I get where you're coming from." Her lips stuck out in a pout, still fairly certain that she should be upset by his response to her vulnerable confession. "And Cas isn't exactly the touch-feely type. Very sexually repressed, I think."

Allison's mouth quirked at Dean's musings. "At least he seems to take his frustrations out on the bad guys," she added

Dean smiled and shook his head at the eccentricities of his dysfunctional friend. "Ah, I really am sorry about your mom though." Allison pursed her lips and nodded, looking down again. "Any other family?" He didn't know what he would do in this life without Sammy, and so he almost hoped for her sake that there was someone she could keep fighting for. "Father? Aunt? Cousin, brother, sister? Kids?" he added as a joke when she didn't answer.

Her eyes snapped to his and narrowed in suspicion. "Why do you care?"

Oh yeah. This was why Dean hated trying to talk to emotional women. "For Christ's sake, Allison! My best friend drags me into the middle of some angelic pissing contest with no info and asks me to bring a stranger – with a big ass target on her back, no less – into my home, the place where I sleep and eat and crap, so screw me for wanting to know a little more about what the hell I've gotten myself into first!" He hadn't meant to blow up at the stressed out, grieving, half-naked girl he was supposed to be looking out for, but why did this always have to be his life, and why did everything always have to be so damn difficult?

Allison blinked up at Dean while his breathing slowed and the creases between his eyes smoothed over. She swallowed hard, but her voice was still strained as she answered. "No family." She darted around him and into the room.

 _Damnit_. Dean blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair, nudging the door with his foot. It was still open a crack, and he forced his gaze away from the sliver of curvy flesh he could see as Allison changed into clean clothes. He splashed some water on his face, frowning at the five o'clock shadow and dark circles under his eyes. Since he'd sprung for the 'nice' motel, there were a few complimentary toiletries, and he gurgled some mouthwash before exiting the small room.

Allison had curled up on the small sofa, and he was surprised to find that she did actually fit quite well into the space. But he still felt guilty for yelling at her. "You can have the bed," he offered, kneeling so that he was at eye level with her. "Look, I'm sorry –"

"You were right, Dean." Allison smirked when he jerked back, nearly falling over in shock. "You could have died today, because of me, because your friend asked you to." She reached out and placed a hand on his knee. "Thank you."

Dean cleared his throat and gave her hand a friendly pat. "Just, uh, doin' my job." Allison pulled her hand back and tucked it at her side. "I was serious about the bed, though."

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "As much as I would like to see you contort yourself onto this couch, I really am fine here."

Dean sighed. It went against his better judgment, but it had been a long time since he'd slept alone in a bed that big, and short of picking her up and tossing her on the bed, he couldn't force Allison to move. He probably could've tried convincing a little harder, but instead pulled one of the wool blankets from the closet shelf and tucked it over her. That was hospitable enough, right?

"We'll talk tomorrow," he said, pulling the fabric up over her shoulders. She had conceded the point, but still had yet to give him any answers. Her tight-lipped smile in response showed that she understood it as a necessity, rather than a pleasantry. With a nod of satisfaction, Dean flopped onto the cushy mattress hard enough to bounce a couple times before stilling.

Almost before the springs stopped squeaking upon his descent, Dean's breathing became heavy and even. Allison bit her lip and tried to quell the waves of anxiety. What questions would he ask? What did he want to know about her? And would he still help her when he got his answers?

Dean awoke before the sun, feeling almost refreshed rather than just hungover for the first time in a long while. He flicked his eyes over to Allison, who didn't appear to have moved an inch and was still breathing heavily and evenly. If he wanted her awake and talking today, he figured his best bet would be to get some caffeine in her.

There was a local diner conveniently located across the parking lot to the motel, and Dean threw on his jacket, taking one last look at Allison before leaving the room. He scanned the bare surroundings for threats, but found no indication of disturbance in the pre-dawn stillness. After carefully locking the door behind him, he half-jogged across the lot and was greeted by the single waitress on duty.

"What can I get ya?" The girl working the counter was young and pretty and looked far too put together for that time of the morning.

"Uh, two very large coffees to go."

She hesitated for a moment, biting her lip. "Surely you don't get that big and strong on a liquid diet alone?"

Dean closed his eyes and rubbed at his face. It was too early for this. "Look," he leaned in and read her nametag, "Betsy, I'm sure you're a very sweet girl. But I'm really only interested in the coffee right now." Her face fell and Dean almost felt guilty, adding in a little extra tip with the cash he threw on the counter. When one of the kitchen staff handed over the two Styrofoam cups, he reached for them, but as he turned to go the pretty young waitress clamped her fingers around his forearm with surprising force.

"Are you sure I can't interest you in anything else? Pancakes?" Her grip tightened and one of the coffee cups fell from his grasp. "Scrambled eggs?" Betsy's eyes flashed black and Dean cursed under his breath.

"This is not a fight you're gonna win," Dean warned, twisting out of her hold and unsheathing the demon blade.

The Betsy demon threw her head back and laughed maniacally; Dean's lip curled up in disgust. "What makes you think this is the real fight?" Dean took a few steps toward her and held the blade to her throat. "Go ahead. Threaten me. Kill me, even. It doesn't matter – you've already lost."

A chill ran down his spine at the words and he loomed over her. "What do you mean?" Her eyes flicked to the door. Dean followed her gaze, landing on the door to the room in which he'd left Allison; a door that was now ajar and hanging by its hinges. "Son of a bitch," he muttered.

Betsy used this distraction as an opportunity to wrench control back from the hunter. She elbowed him in the face and he fell back against the counter. She struggled to wrest the knife from his fingers, and Dean dumped the mostly still full cup of coffee on her face. It didn't hurt the demon, but it blinded the vessel long enough for Dean to shove the blade in between her ribs.

Dean was out the door and across the parking lot before her body even hit the floor. When he entered the room, it was chaos. Most of the furniture was in shambles, there was at least one body on the floor, and it sounded like a pipe had burst in the bathroom; the sounds of struggle still echoed there and Dean rushed in, weapon at the ready.

Allison was hunkered down in the small well of the bathtub. The hulking demon crouching over her was too large to fit in there with her, or even to gain firm footing. Every time he tried to pin her down she would kick or punch at one of his joints and squirm out of his grasp.

Dean readied himself to kill the bastard when a previously unseen third demon tackled him from behind. Two heavy knees dug into his back, knocking the breath out of his lungs and anchoring him to the floor. His head was yanked back by his hair and slammed once, twice against the hard tile. He watched helplessly as the largest demon finally got control of one of Allison's legs, dragging her harshly over the side of the tub as she tried desperately to cling to the faucet, the side, anything.

With her free leg, Allison kicked at his face and she fell to the ground, hard. She army crawled over toward Dean, reaching out for his hand, but was soon pulled back, straddled and immobilized in a similar position to Dean.

The demon on top of her grinned, sensing victory. "Our orders may be to kill you," he sighed, almost disappointed, "but that doesn't mean we can't have a little fun first." He released her wrists, running his large hands up her arms and down her shoulders; their course shifted at right angles, moving laterally. Allison tried to press herself deeper against the floor, but whimpered when his hands found their way to her breasts anyway.

"Off. Now." Dean was seething, a deeper loathing burning within him than he'd ever experienced before.

"Or what?" the demon taunted, sliding one hand down until it rested on her inner thigh.

The other, smaller demon that was holding Dean captive snickered, and he kicked his heels up into its back, throwing it off balance enough to get an arm free and land a blow with his elbow into its solar plexus.

"Oomph!" The demon let out a whoosh of air and listed to the side enough for Dean to flip onto his stomach, using the momentum to bury his blade in its side.

"Dean!"

He was now alone in the bathroom, Allison having been slung over the other demon's shoulder and hauled halfway across the room. Dean pushed himself up off the floor and closed the distance between them. Just before impact, the demon spun around, his pro-football player sized shoulder knocking Dean into the wall and the knife out of his hand.

Allison grabbed at the nearest object – a picture hanging on the wall – and smashed it over his head. When he barely flinched, she jammed one of the broken shards of glass into the arm that was still coiled around her waist. It was enough to get the demon to drop her, and Dean slammed into him from the side.

On the way down, Allison's head cracked on the side of the tv stand; painful stars bursted across her vision and warm, sticky fluid began to ooze in her hair and down her temple. The demon blade rested on the floor a foot away. With the last of her strength, Allison pulled herself across the floor – twelve inches that felt like twelve miles. She smiled as her fingers closed around the handle, rolling her head to find her mark.

Despite the blood loss and the injuries and the exhaustion, the demon made an easy target. It had its whole back turned to her, focusing instead on the hand it had wrapped around Dean's throat, his feet dangling a few inches off the ground. This was a shot she could make in her sleep.

In one practiced motion with a flick of her wrist, Allison flung the blade and buried it into the demon's back. His surprise only lasted a second before he crumpled to the ground, Dean following closely after.

"You have got to teach me how to do that," Dean rasped, still coughing and sputtering. "Allison?" He looked up when she didn't respond. He crawled over and knelt beside her still form. "Nonono, come on, look at me." He took her face in his hands and his fingers tangled in her matted crimson stained hair. "Shit. Cas, we could use some help down here!"

The girl was important to Cas; surely the angel wouldn't let her go this easy. Of course, Cas had been busy, gone radio silent. He trusted Dean to keep her safe, and he was doing a piss-poor job of it. Well, hell, if he couldn't get supernatural help he'd just have to settle for the human kind.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean could drive his baby faster than any ambulance, and so it was in record time that he flew into the ER entrance, already barking orders at the flustered trauma nurses.

"What happened?"

"Our motel room was broken into." Technically that was true.

"Are you injured?"

Probably. "I'm fine."

The nurse eyed him skeptically, but didn't press the issue. "What relation are you to the patient?"

Dean knew they wouldn't tell him a damn thing if he wasn't related. "Husband." Husband? He could have said brother, or cousin, or any number of other relatives; why was husband the first thing that came out of his mouth?

The nurse's eyes softened. "What can you tell me about her medical history? Allergies, medications, pre-existing conditions?"

Dean shook his head. "We, uh… we haven't… it's kind of a new… thing."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Alright, we'll start with something simpler. "Age? Family?" Dean blew out a breath and the nurse sighed. "Do you even know the girl's name?"

"Allison! Her name is Allison. God, can you just tell me if she's gonna be alright?" He hoped he could pass off the ignorance as a byproduct of trauma and stress, but she just stared at him with skepticism. "Look, I made a promise to do everything in my power to protect that girl in there, no matter what." Dean ran a hand along the stubble of his chin and flopped into one of the waiting room chairs. "And so far I'm failing miserably."

As the nurse watched him slump into his seat, defeated, she took pity on him. Whatever he was to her, he clearly cared a great deal about her. "I'll see what I can find out," she promised, giving his knee a gentle pat before disappearing through the hospital doors.

About an hour later, she reappeared, practically beaming. Dean stood to his feet, encouraged by the pleasant look on her face.

"Is she…"

"Come with me," she said, trying and failing to maintain a professional neutrality. "I'll let her tell you the good news herself." Dean had no idea what she was talking about, and his confused expression only served to widen her grin. They stopped outside a small room where several machines could be heard beeping in a steady, rhythmic pattern.

Dean walked to the side of her bed and she reached out and clasped his hand. "Hey, sweetheart," he said, only partly to appease the woman who was still watching them from the doorway. He half-sat on the bed next to her thigh and rubbed circles on the back of her hand with his thumb. "You look like shit."

Allison laughed, and the sound relieved all the tension that Dean hadn't realized he'd been holding. "You should look in a mirror," she countered.

"I'll just give you two some privacy," the nurse whispered with a wink, quietly shutting the door behind her.

"What's with her?"

Allison shrugged. "Maybe she thinks you're cute."

Dean pursed his lips. "I think she thinks _we're_ cute." Allison raised her eyebrows and Dean smirked. "Had to tell them something to get them to let me in this room, _Mrs_. _Winchester_." He'd meant the words to be friendly, teasing, but they left an uncomfortable, almost aching silence in their wake. Dean cleared his throat. "You know, you were kinda badass back there. Sorry I, uh… couldn't keep up."

Allison pushed herself up to a seated position; she wrapped herself around his upper arm, resting her chin on his shoulder. "You've already done more for me than I could ever repay."

He shook his head, which hung low. "I haven't done anything except almost get you killed." He looked toward the door and then up at the ceiling. "You were better off with Cas." She didn't respond, and he took her silence as agreement.

But Dean was wrong. Castiel was a lot of things – a good warrior with a good heart – but he wasn't human, and Allison still wasn't sure of the motives or intentions behind the care he provided for her. Still, her presence was putting Dean at risk and she wouldn't remain with him if he didn't want her there.

"Dean, you kind of just got dropped into the middle of my life. You are obviously a good friend to Castiel, but… this isn't going to stop anytime soon. I'm dangerous to be around, and…" She took a deep breath and steeled herself to close off yet another door within her heart. "I'm not your burden to bear."

"Who said anything about a burden?" Dean had been so busy dealing with his own guilt that he didn't recognize it blossoming inside the girl on his arm. She wouldn't even look him in the eye, and he tried to lighten the mood. "Hey, we are fake married now. You are my fake wife, in sickness and in health. And that is not a fake vow I take lightly…"

"Dean," she began, a pleading look in her eye.

"Listen, with all the crap that I've been through over the past few years – hell, through my entire life – a few demon attacks doesn't even make an honorable mention. More like… just another Tuesday."

"But… you don't know everything."

Dean smirked. "Yeah, I'm kinda getting that feeling." When did he ever have the luxury of knowing everything?

The same overly invested nurse poked her head in. "Lunch time!" she announced, pushing the door wide open with her hip and wheeling in a cart behind her. "Gotta keep that strength up, now," she chided in a motherly tone, looking knowingly between Allison and Dean.

"Wha –"

"You still haven't told him?" she tsk-ed again. "Better get to it before the doctor comes in. Won't be any hiding it then," she said with a wink, practically dancing out the door again.

"Seriously, what is with her?"

Allison didn't have time to answer before the vile smell of hospital food accosted her nose; she leaned over the bed and retched into the conveniently placed bucket. There was very little in her stomach, so what came up was a painful mixture of stomach acid and bile that burned her throat and caused her eyes to water.

"Hey, are you okay? I thought they said you were okay." Dean was about to get up and find a nurse when he saw that the doctor was already standing at the threshold. "Hey, doc, is something wrong?"

The man was young and good looking, but the stress of his job had etched a few extra creases into his brow and the corners of his mouth. In this instance, though, they were turned up into a smile; an expression the trauma surgeon probably rarely got to wear. "A common, if entirely unpleasant, side effect I'm afraid." Dean assumed he was talking about whatever pain meds they'd given Allison. "I'm Dr. Stevens." He reached out his hand, shaking first Dean's, then Allison's. "Nice to finally see you with your eyes open."

"Thank you," she said, "and sorry about the…" she gestured to the side of the bed and Dr. Stevens laughed.

"Believe me, these four walls have seen worse." Allison reclined back in the bed, wincing as her bruised body made contact with the hard hospital mattress. "Easy now," he said, offering a hand to help ease her down. Dean frowned; sure, he wasn't actually Allison's husband, but this guy didn't know that.

"How long does she need to stay here?"

Dr. Stevens gave Dean a disapproving look. "We can't exactly kick her out the door; she's been through quite an ordeal."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "You have no idea." The doctor's obvious flirting already grated on his nerves; whatever, he could deal with some petty jealousy. But now there was the implication that Dean didn't have Allison's best interest in mind, and that he took offense at.

Allison's eyes flicked to Dean and she noted the clenched jaw, the hard set to his eyes. The tension was billowing off him in waves, and it wasn't without warrant. They were like sitting ducks here. Dean was right; if she got a clean bill of health, they should get out of there as soon as possible.

"You didn't answer my _husband's_ question," she said almost too innocently. The doctor glanced down at her left hand, which was noticeably bare, but didn't comment. Dean couldn't stop the smug half-smile that broke across his face out of some prehistoric masculine pride.

Dr. Stevens pursed his lips. "Technically, you are free to be discharged. But it is my recommendation that you remain here at least another day for monitoring."

"Thanks, doc. We'll, uh, take it under advisement." Dean grinned widely at him and gave a satisfied nod when he trudged back out of the room.

"Feel better?" Allison asked, rolling her eyes.

"He was being a dick."

"Doctors are notorious for their giant egos. Not unlike other professions I know…"

"Well you know what they say about guys with big egos." Allison closed her eyes and gave a small, sad shake of her head. "Seriously, you okay though?"

Allison thought about it; she'd been better, but she'd live, and Dean felt guilty enough as it was. "I'm okay. But we might wanna get out of here before I have to witness another goddamn pissing contest."

They snuck out the staff entrance and tore away in Dean's iconic masterpiece of a car. Allison's rumbling stomach could be heard even over the roar of the powerful engine and Dean cocked an eyebrow at her.

"I didn't get to eat lunch," she whined. "Or breakfast, for that matter."

"Well," he glanced at the back seat in the rearview mirror, "we've got beer and Oreos."

Allison wrinkled her nose, but soon gave in and reached back to snag the large pack of Double Stuf Oreos. She yanked back the pull tab and grabbed one straight out of the middle. With practiced precision, she twisted off one cookie side and popped it into her mouth; when that was gone, she licked off the white center until there was none left, then popped the remaining cookie in her mouth.

Dean watched with amusement as she repeated this same process with one Oreo after another, until all the easily accessible ones were picked clean. She looked up at him sheepishly, then closed the package and tossed them in the back seat.

"Don't stop on my account." In fact, he rather enjoyed watching her tongue swirl around the sweet, hydrogenated cream.

She punched his arm playfully. "I am going to need some real food eventually."

By the time they'd crossed state lines, Allison had finished off the rest of the Oreos and Dean was starting to wonder how such a tiny person could consume so much food. Where did it go? And how in the hell was she still hungry?

"Ooh! How about this barbeque place?" She pointed excitedly out the window to a run-down hole-in-the-wall restaurant. "They've got a picture of a pig on the sign, so you know it's gotta be good!"

Well, it had to be better than whatever salt-free, low-fat, grass-fed establishment Sam always tried to drag him to. He swung into a parking space and Allison threw open the passenger door.

They sat across from each other and Dean marveled at how she single-handedly managed to put away an order of onion rings, cole slaw, hush puppies, and a pork slider.

"What?" she asked, the sound muffled behind the mass of saucy meat currently occupying her mouth.

Dean held his hands up in surrender. "Nothing. Just… never seen a girl eat like that."

She grinned at him, but it quickly turned into a grimace and she scooted herself away from the table, making a beeline toward the back.

"Hey!" Dean called, jumping out of his seat to follow after her. He'd recognized the look – it was the same one he'd seen in the hospital right before she tossed her cookies. Normally he would have given her some space, some privacy; but considering what had happened the last time he left her alone for two minutes…

The restaurant was small and only had two single-use bathrooms. He paused outside the first and heard, well, exactly what you would expect to hear coming from inside. Dean moved to the other one and the muffled sounds of coughing. The door was still unlocked, and he came in to find Allison praying to the porcelain god.

She flushed the toilet quickly, but it's not like she could hide what had just happened. Dean stepped halfway back out the door and flagged down one of the wait staff.

"Can we get a clean towel in here? Thanks." A few seconds later, Dean reentered the bathroom and closed and locked the door behind him. He ran some cold water in the sink and soaked the cloth; he offered it to Allison, but before she could take it she spun back around and heaved up some more of her massive dinner.

Dean wasn't quite sure what to do; despite all that they'd been through, he didn't really know anything about her. Like whether she'd find his assistance welcome or invasive. So he stood awkwardly to the side until she was done, then offered her the cool cloth again. Allison snatched it out of his hand with a groan, dabbing at the corners of her mouth and wiping at her forehead before folding it up and laying it across the back of her neck.

"Must have been some powerful painkillers the hospital gave you," Dean commented, wrinkling his nose.

"Dean."

"And I knew there was no way you had enough space to pack away that much food."

" _Dean_." She gave him an exasperated look.

He smiled and offered his hand, pulling her to her feet. They boxed up the leftovers – getting a to-go dessert for later – and checked into a motel a few miles down the road. It was a little early still, but Dean didn't want to risk exposing Baby to any unexpected bodily fluids.

Dean had been sure to get a room with two beds that night; they had a long drive ahead of them if they were gonna make it back to the bunker the next day. He smiled at the way Allison's tiny body took up the entirety of the bed; it appeared she could make herself as compact or sprawling as she wanted.

Dean was a light sleeper in general – a handy trait acquired after years of getting shot or stabbed or cursed all the damn time – and cracked his eyes open when he heard a soft moan coming from the bed to his left. Allison's eyes were still shut but she was muttering unintelligibly, fidgeting in the bed until she settled onto her back. He was dozing, almost asleep again, when she screamed.

Dean shot up in bed and scanned the room, but all he saw was Allison; she was in the center of the bed, her back lifted in a painful arch, clutching the sheets in tightly balled fists. The sound had stopped, but her face was still contorted in a mask of silent terror and she was shaking.

"Allison? Allison!" Dean grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and tried to shake her awake. She fought against his grip, swatting at his arms and face. "Ow, hey, stop that. Wake up. Wake up!" He finally clamped his hands around her wrists and anchored them beside her waist. With one final strangled whine, her eyes popped open and tears streamed down her cheeks. "It's alright, you're alright," he assured her, though she had dissolved into hysterical sobs.

Allison tried several times to speak – to explain, to apologize – but the sounds coming from her throat predated language, and honestly she wasn't sure she could even articulate what in her nightmare had elicited such an overreaction. It just felt so real and she thought for sure she was going to die and she was scared and now this man that she barely knew was the only person in the world looking out for her and… and it was all just too much.

She threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest. Dean was a little taken aback by the sudden intimacy, but in his empathy could not resist wrapping his arms around her. He scooted closer until she was practically in his lap, cradling her against him until she had calmed down.

"I swear… I'm not… a dramatic… person," she managed between sniffs and hiccups.

"'S alright, my brother's a bit of a drama queen. At least you've got a good reason to be a little cuckoo." Dean smiled, recalling the time he ate the last of what was apparently Sam's special whole grain hippie bread and the kid lost his damn mind over it; didn't speak to Dean for a solid week. "So, you good now?" he asked, looking down into her swollen eyes. She nodded and he moved to get up, but paused when he could have sworn he heard her whimper. "Allison?"

Allison cast her eyes down, embarrassed, and bit her lip. She was still rattled, but god, could she really ask a hardened hunter to cuddle in an attempt to keep away the bad dreams? He hooked a finger under her chin and brought her eyes back to his; they were curious, concerned, but not patronizing or judgmental. "Could you… would you mind –" She blew out a breath and rolled her eyes at her own awkwardness. "Stay? Here, with me?" His eyes widened and she shook her head. "Never mind, you don't have to. Forget it. I'm fine."

"No, no, it's… fine, I guess." It wasn't exactly an enthusiastic acceptance, but that was the last thing Dean had expected her to say; he was still fairly certain that Allison was keeping something from him, and so he was surprised that she would request his presence, that she found it comforting. Her brows drew together in concern and he cupped a hand around her shoulder. "Lay back down," he instructed, giving her arm a gentle nudge.

Allison slid slowly to a horizontal position and Dean followed suit. Though he would never admit it, he secretly liked being the little spoon; unfortunately for him, this was a big spoon kind of a situation, so he manned up and pulled her flush against him. She used his bicep as a pillow and he draped an arm over her waist, which she promptly hugged against her chest like a child with a stuffed animal.

Dean was awakened when Allison slipped out of his grasp; she padded over quietly but quickly toward the bathroom, softly clicking the door shut behind her. He was slightly appeased when the water for the shower turned on, but it still didn't quite drown out the sound of Allison throwing up some more. Enough time had passed that any meds she'd had at the hospital would be out of her system. But the hospital had also given her a clean bill of health. Dean was missing something.

"What the –" The room was filled with light when two men appeared in the middle of the floor. With a flick of their wrists, matching angel blades appeared in their hands and they took a few steps toward him. "Shit."

Dean scrambled to the far corner of the room and cut into his hand, hastily painting the Enochian sigil for 'get lost' onto the wall. The two angels reached the bathroom door and kicked it in, eliciting a surprised squeal from its occupant – obviously their intended target. Dean slammed his palm into the center of the symbol just before they crossed the threshold, banishing them from the area in one blinding burst.

He sat there for a moment, trying to quell the rush of adrenaline and sort out what the hell was going on. That was three attacks – from both regions of the afterlife – in a matter of days. Dean was used to going in half-cocked, but this was getting ridiculous.

"Cas? Cas! Get your angelic ass down here right now!" The angel must have heard the irritated determination in his tone, because he appeared right behind him.

"What is it, Dean?" he asked gruffly.

"You owe me some answers. What the hell is going on with her?" he asked, pointing toward what had been the bathroom door. "What is so damn special about her that she's got angels and demons and god knows what else out for her head?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing. Nothing? Seriously, Cas?" His fist twitched, desperately wanting to collide with the angel's expressionless mug.

"I am always serious. Allison is of little import to the supernatural realm. The child she carries in her womb, however, is quite valuable and extraordinary."

Dean's heart stopped for a beat as his mind tried to replay Cas's last words. "I'm sorry, the who in her what now?"

"The child, Dean, pay attention. It's a Seer – conceived from the lineages of both angels and demons, it is cloaked from their detection and can recognize their true forms within any vessel. It is even believed to be able to locate any angel or demon that walks the earth. Thus the name – sees all, seen by none. Both sides either want to kill it or use it."

"Allison's… she's pregnant?" Allison chose that moment to peek out of the bathroom and froze as he balked at her. "You're pregnant?" He wasn't sure why, but the revelation almost made him feel… hurt. Betrayed.

Cas scrunched his eyebrows together. "You didn't tell him?"

" _You_ didn't tell him?" she countered with a hiss, wrapping her arms defensively around her midsection.

"SOMEbody shoulda friggin' told me!" Dean threw his hands up in exasperation. She flinched, a guilty look plastered across her face. Good.

"Look – I am sorry some things apparently got lost in the exchange." Dean snorted at the understatement. "And I don't know why you have been driving so far out of the way, but it needs to stop. You need to get her back to the bunker as soon as possible."

"And then what, Cas? We play house for the next nine months?"

"Technically, she is already halfway through her first trimester, so –"

"Damnit, Cas, that is so not the point right now." Dean sighed and rubbed his palm against the stubble growing on his chin.

"Dean. Please. This is important to me. I cannot let that child get into the wrong hands." Allison flinched. The action didn't escape Dean's notice, but he was still too worked up to read into it at the moment. He grabbed his leather jacket from the end of the bed and slung it over his shoulders. "Where are you going?"

"I need a drink," he said, retrieving the car keys from his front pocket.

"You cannot leave her unattend—"

"Then you watch her!" The words had been harsher and more derogatory than he intended, but Cas looked more disappointed than angry.

"I'll be fine for a few hours, Castiel," Allison assured him, wrapping her hand around his forearm and giving it a little squeeze. "Promise."

Dean spun around and threw open the door, not bothering to look back and see whether or not the angel had stayed.


	4. Chapter 4

The more Dean drank, the less he seemed to care about what he'd left back at the motel. What did he care if the girl was knocked up? It was daytime and the bar was mostly empty; the bartender was trying to be attentive, but was obviously distracted. When Dean peered over the side of the bartop, he saw why.

There was a small carseat that the young bartender was rocking with her foot as she worked the cash register. In the seat was a small, mewling infant. "I'm sorry," she said to the man paying his tab, offering an apologetic smile.

"Don't worry about it, Katie," he said, handing her a $20 tip. "You're just doin' right by that little guy the best way you know how."

Tears shimmered in her eyes, but didn't fall. She nodded, more to herself than the man that must have been one of her regulars, and thanked him as he left. Katie saw Dean watching her and looked up at the ceiling, swiping her fingers under her eyes and letting out an embarrassed chuckle. She tilted her head in his direction and shrugged.

"Husband's a cheating bastard and the sitter cancelled. What are you gonna do?" The infant started wailing, and some of the more intoxicated patrons started giving her nasty looks. Katie bent down and freed her son from his restraints, hoping that rocking in her arms would be enough to soothe him.

"Hey, I asked for another round, like, 10 minutes ago!" someone yelled from across the bar. She didn't have enough hands as she tried to set out the mugs and pull the draft and hold onto the flailing child.

"Yer losin' yer tip over here!" someone else at the table called. When she didn't appear instantly, he let out a sharp, obnoxiously loud whistle. The jarring sound caused the heavy glass mugs to slip from her grasp, shattering against the floor, and all the noise left the boy in her arms in hysterics.

The men at the table walked out – without paying their tab, much less leaving a tip – and the bartender, Katie, had to add the tip she'd just received to the register to make up the difference. She looked down at her son, then around at the mess behind the bar, and Dean could see the tears well up again.

"Hey, why don't you let me take care of that," he said nodding toward the wet floor and broken glass. She looked like she wanted to refuse, but found herself nodding as she went back to rocking, her hips swaying back and forth rhythmically. By the time he was finished, Katie was sitting on the customer side of the bar, the kid fast asleep in the crook of her elbow.

Dean couldn't help channeling his inner Bogart as he swiped uselessly at the shiny bartop, then swung the hand towel over his shoulder and leaned in. "What can I get ya?"

She laughed, and this time it was light, effortless. "You've done enough. I can't- I can't thank you enough, really." It was then that Dean noticed the onesie her kid was wearing – solid black with white letters reading "AC/DC".

"Kid's got good taste," he commented, pointing to the outfit. "What's his name?"

"Axl," she said sheepishly.

Dean's mouth twitched in the beginnings of a smile. "No shit."

Katie grinned. "I was under heavy anesthesia at the time. They really shouldn't let you name people while under the influence."

"So you're, uh, doin' this alone?" She nodded, but the smile never left her face as she gazed at her child. "Must be hard." She hesitated, then nodded again, and a heavy weight settled in Dean's chest. He was being an ass. Yes, Allison should have told him, but she didn't exactly lie about it either. She had heaven and hell on her ass, no family to back her up, and soon she'd have a kid to raise all by herself. Ah, hell.

When Dean got back to the motel, Allison was curled up on top of the covers like a cat taking a nap. She wasn't crying, but her eyes were glassy and the skin directly under her nose was raw and red.

"Hey, listen, uh… sorry about before. Just kinda… caught me off guard. A lot to process." He considered the words he'd just spoken. "I'm sure you can relate."

She offered a sad half-smile. "It's okay, Dean. I should have- I should have told you. It's just –" She sighed. "I know it's a lot." Dean was carrying a small, nondescript bag. He sat down on the bed and placed it in front of her. "What is that?"

Dean sighed. "An apology, I guess?" He reached into the bag and pulled out a little black and white Beatles onesie, per the bartender's recommendation. "I mean, come on how cute is this?" He flashed rock 'n roll sign with his right hand and stuck out his tongue. He laid it out in front of her on the bed and she ran her fingertips around the outline. Dean was admiring his find when he noticed Allison's hand shaking, and looked up to find that she was holding back tears. "What? Did I… is it the shirt? I mean, I know it's a little big, but kids grow quick. It's not the band, is it? Oh god, please do not tell me you would have preferred the Stones."

Allison shook her head, a pained look on her face. "No, Dean. Sorry, no. You didn't do anything. Really, it's very s-sweet." She stumbled over her words, chest tight and eyes stinging. "It's just –" She sniffled and swiped at the one tear that managed to escape. "Dean, I'm not keeping it," she explained, unable to look him in the eye.

Dean stiffened. "Not. Keeping. It." He repeated the words slowly, trying to process them. "What do you mean by that, exactly?"

"I'm not- I mean, I'm not getting rid of it, I'm not having an abortion." Dean flinched at the word; with all the things he's done, he thought he'd be less squeamish about the idea. "I just… Dean, everyone sees this baby as a threat. Castiel told me that it's undetectable, hidden from them. But- but I'm not. And as long as it's with me, it will never be safe. Once it's born…"

"So it's better to just cut your losses, leave a defenseless baby on its own to fend for itself?"

"What? No. I mean, it won't have to. We'll leave it in safe hands. It can go on to live a normal life; no one will find out."

Dean wanted to laugh, but it wasn't funny. He grabbed her shoulders and willed her to listen to him. "Allison, someone always finds out. Always."

For a moment he thought he'd gotten through to her. But then she wrenched her arms out of his grasp and glared. "Damnit, Dean, you barely know me. What the hell makes you think you get a say in this?"

"Oh, but Cas gets a say?"

"It's what's best for the baby."

"According to you or to Cas?"

"Both," she ground out, jaw tight. Allison dropped her arms and sat down hard on the bed. Her elbows rested on her thighs and she held her head in her hands. "Dean, please just let this go."

He knelt in front of her and placed a hand on her knee. "Alright. You look me in the eye, right now, and tell me that this is really what you want… and I won't say another word about it." When her head remained bowed, he hooked a finger under her chin and brought her eyes to his. "Is this what you want?"

Of course it wasn't what she wanted; it was killing her. The idea of growing a new life, bringing it into the world, and then giving it away and cutting ties forever? It was unbearable, and she already ached with grief and loss at the mere thought of it. Castiel had persuaded her that it was what was best, that it would give the child the best chance for a future. A chance, but still not a guarantee. And Dean hadn't asked her if this was what she thought was best.

"Does it really matter what I want?" When did they ever get what they wanted anyway?

"Yes, damnit, that's all that matters!"

"None of this is what I want, Dean! I want my mom to be alive; I want to have a baby that doesn't have a target on its back; I want to wait another five years until I have a house in the suburbs with a husband and a job that doesn't pay me under the table or require me to wear a crop top!" Dean sat back on his heels, taken aback by her vehemence. "But I can't have any of that. So again, does it really _matter_ what I _want_?"

Dean pursed his lips and leaned in, his voice soft and hushed. "Yes. It matters." Allison's breathing was ragged, and she slid off the mattress and slumped to the floor in front of Dean. He pulled her in next to his side and wrapped his arms around her small shoulders. She leaned against his chest and closed her eyes. "What do you want, Allison?"

She swung her head up to look at Dean's face. He was studying her carefully, the hard set to his jaw offset by the softness in his eyes. It was the first time during this whole ordeal that anyone had bothered to ask her what _she_ wanted, including herself. She didn't know what she wanted for her future – for her child's future – but there was certainly one thing she wanted in that moment.

She reached up and ran her fingers along the stubble of his chin, feeling his teeth clench and unclench rapidly beneath the skin. Suddenly, she pushed herself up and brushed her lips against his, her hand moving under his ear and wrapping around his neck and threading through his fine hair. She pressed closer, taking his bottom lip between hers and running her tongue along its border, testing, teasing.

"Allison," he warned, his voice little more than a growl.

"Do you want me to stop?" She pulled away far enough to look at Dean's face, which was dancing with conflicting emotions. Lust warred with guilt, desire with morality. She grabbed his shoulders, planting her knees on either side of his leg and riding his thigh gently up and down. "I can stop if you want."

Dean closed his eyes and threw his head back; all the blood was swiftly moving out of his brain, and so it took a few seconds to register the obnoxious ringtone chime coming from his personal cell. He wanted nothing more than to chuck it out the window at the moment, but that number was reserved for a select few people, and they wouldn't be calling without a good reason.

He fumbled through his pockets and flipped open the phone. "Yeah?" he asked, the only word he was able to get out as Allison explored the tight bulge that was currently testing the limits of his denim jeans. "Yes, Jody, I am in the middle of something, so make it quick." Allison smiled mischievously up at him and he swallowed hard.

A few seconds passed and she saw Dean shift into calculating hunter mode; whatever little moment they had been having was over now. "Who was that?" she asked, trying not to sound petulant as he extricated himself from her legs and got to his feet, slowly.

"Jody Mills," he supplied, throwing his jacket on and grabbing the keys to the Impala. It wasn't until he looked back at Allison that he realized the dilemma. "Oh."

"'Oh' what?"

"Well, it's just that you're kind of a disaster magnet all on your own. I can't leave you, but… can't very well bring you on a hunt either."

At this, Allison stood. "Is your friend in danger?" Dean pursed his lips and didn't answer, but he wouldn't have been so quick to leave if she wasn't. "Then you need to go."

"But –"

"Look, I get that you're on board with the whole baby thing now, really. But you can't just press the pause button on your own life." Dean crossed his arms and opened his mouth to object. "You'll never forgive yourself if something happens to her."

"And what about you?"

"Castiel trusted you with my safety; I guess I can too. I'll… do whatever you think is best."

Dean stared into Allison's expectant gaze. She really was putting all of her faith in him. There must be something seriously wrong in her psyche.

"I think… I think it would be best if I kept you in sight. You and the, uh, little one feeling well enough for a road trip?"

Allison absently placed a hand on her stomach and smirked. "Do we have time to stop and pick up some Oreos?"

A pack and a half of Oreos and two states later they had settled into a comfortable silence. Allison was humming quietly along to the classic rock cassette that was on its third straight loop, and Dean couldn't help the small smile that formed when she began to subtly air guitar along with an epic musical interlude. The song ended and she casually folded her hands in her lap like nothing had happened. She glanced down with a wistful expression, her thumb flicking gently over the spot beneath her navel.

"Who's the baby daddy?" Dean suddenly blurted out. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized that it was really none of his business, other than that there might be some other poor schmuck he needed to risk his life for in the coming months. "I mean, if you don't mind me asking."

Allison rolled her head in his direction and plastered a wicked grin across her face. "Why, my high school sweetheart of course! Only man I've ever been with, only man I've ever loved."

"Really?" There had been something off with her tone – a little too sweet, too innocent – and he was suspicious.

She smiled wryly at him. "No. But it sounds a hell of a lot more romantic than a one night stand with a hot piece of ass that walked into the bar at the end of my shift."

Dean smiled a genuine smile. He was going to like this girl, he decided. "Alright, so where is this 'hot piece of ass' now?"

Allison shrugged. "Don't know. Doesn't matter. He was never gonna stick around anyway." She leaned toward the driver's seat and stage whispered, "That was the fun of it, after all. No commitments, no complications. Just amazing, mind-blowing sex."

"And an unplanned pregnancy."

Allison cocked a half-smile and shrugged again, righting herself and returning her gaze to the passing trees. "And that."

"Well, the whole 'no complications' deal rarely works out the way you think." In his experience, someone always ended up heartbroken or diseased or dead. But then, his experiences should probably never act as a baseline for normal human existence. "You're sure you don't wanna find this guy, let him share in the happy news? I do have a reputation for hunting things down." He waggled his eyebrows at her, proud of his use of the pun.

She smiled a tight-lipped smile. "Thanks, but no thanks."

"Alright, suit yourself. Do what you want. I'm just the bodyguard. All muscle, no brain." Dean continued grumbling until she had clearly tuned him out; then it was hardly worth the effort.

It was getting dark when they finally crossed over into Jody's neck of the woods. It had been almost an entire day since she'd called – since he'd heard anything from her, actually – and he was anxious to get her in his sights. He had just whipped out his cell to punch in her number when Allison groaned.

"Pull the car over."

"What? No, we're in the middle of the highway."

"Damnit, Dean, unless you would like me to vomit all over your precious Impala, you will park this car on the shoulder. Now!"

The wheels screeched as Dean simultaneously spun the wheel and slammed on the brakes, skidding to a stop amidst some blaring horns and colorful profanities. Before the dust had even settled, Allison threw the passenger door open and stumbled a few steps into the grass before landing on her knees and heaving.

Dean was still miffed at having to risk a head-on collision to accommodate his passenger's bodily functions, but his anger dissipated as he watched her back shudder and spasm as she hacked up what was left of the snacks they'd bought earlier. He was debating going over there – though there was absolutely nothing he could do for her – when she pressed her palms into her thighs and pushed herself back to a standing position.

As she slid back into the front seat, she wiped some moisture from her mouth and gave an apologetic half-smile. She looked exhausted, but resigned, and Dean wondered just how many times she had to go through that on any given day.

"I would offer to pull over for the night, but we really need to –"

"No, it's fine. I'm fine." Dean's eyebrows rose in skepticism and she placed a hand on his forearm. "Really, we can keep going." She tried to fake a smile, but it was a half-hearted effort and she still looked a little pale. "We're almost there anyway, right?"

Dean sighed. She had a point. "At least give me a little heads up next time you're about to blow chunks in my car," he requested, pulling back into traffic.

There were still a fair number of cars on the road despite the late hour and Allison closed her eyes, taking slow, even breaths to try and quell the nausea that never seemed to quite go away completely. Luckily, along with the constant queasiness, being pregnant also meant that she was exhausted all the time, and was soon lulled to sleep by the steady sounds and movements of the car.

Dean looked over at his passenger, securely tucked into the corner of her seat. She looked so small there. He knew she was far from helpless, but she was in trouble; he just hoped that this little detour didn't bring any more down on her.


	5. Chapter 5

They pulled up to a modest, very suburban looking house on a quiet street. The downstairs lights were on and as soon Dean had flicked off the headlights after parking in the driveway, the front door swung open. A silhouette appeared in the open space and beckoned them in. Dean got out and trotted over to the passenger side, opening the door and pulling Allison to her feet; his hand never left the small of her back as he guided her up the dark path and into the house, earning a cocked eyebrow from Jody as they passed.

"What?"

Jody threw up her hands in an it's-none-of-my-business gesture and shut the door, clicking the lock shut and pouring a salt line across the threshold. Dean and Allison hovered in the foyer until she was finished.

"Thanks for coming, kiddo," she said affectionately, pulling Dean into a tight hug and doling out a few hearty slaps to his back before releasing him.

"Anytime." Jody looked at Allison, then back at Dean expectantly. "This is Allison. And she's... Allison," he added very unhelpfully.

Allison stuck her hand out to shake, but it was ignored as she was enveloped in an equally warm and welcoming embrace. She wasn't sure exactly what it was – the sure grip, the unconditional acceptance, the unmistakable combination of feminine softness and strength – but Jody emanated maternal nurturing, and Allison clung to her much longer than was appropriate for a woman she'd just met.

"Nice to meet you, Allison," she said, extricating herself from Allison's tight grip.

Allison flicked her eyes away and crossed her arms over her chest, embarrassed by the display. "So why are we here? What can we do for you?" Dean cleared his throat loudly and looked at her with consternation. Right. She wasn't allowed to actually do anything that might actually help someone.

Jody glanced between the two of them, trying to decipher their silent communication.

"It was a long day – why don't you go upstairs and get some sleep," Dean suggested.

"So you can sneak off in the middle of the night to hunt down god-knows-what?"

"No, so we can find out what the god-knows-what is and figure out how to gank it without getting killed."

"'We' being you and Jody?"

"Yes!" he barked, harsher than he'd intended.

"While I stay locked up like some fragile porcelain doll?" Dean pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "I don't break that easy, Dean. You can't just leave me here!"

"I told you I wasn't gonna do that!" He was shouting now, and took a few calming breaths before continuing. "I wouldn't just leave you alone like that – remember what happened last time?" They shared a half-smile/half-grimace and he stepped forward, placing a hand in the crook of her neck. "I need to keep you safe, I just… don't know what that looks like right now."

She nodded in concession and Jody cleared her throat. Dean and Allison jumped away from each other, startled; they had nearly forgotten she was there.

"You do look pretty exhausted, sweetheart," Jody added. "Why don't you lie down for a bit?" Allison gave Dean a pleading look.

"I'll be up later." Dean had taken to just staying in the same bed most nights – it was easier than the heart attack that came every time she woke up screaming, which seemed to happen anytime she slept alone.

Allison nodded once, then allowed herself to be led up the stairs and into the furthest bedroom down the hall. The moon shone bright enough through the window that Allison managed to find her way to the bed and burrow into it without turning on the light.

It was the first time anyone had slept in this room since Jody's family had been stolen from her so many years ago and a knot formed in her chest. "Let me know if you need anything," she whispered, kneeling by the bed. Allison reached out and clung to the sheriff's hand. Both women stayed holding each other for a long moment – a mother longing for a lost child, and a daughter yearning for her lost mother.

"Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

Jody smiled, swiping at the single tear that had managed to escape her normally disciplined eyes. "I'll try my best, but no guarantees," she said honestly, bending down to sweep Allison's hair behind her neck and give her shoulder an encouraging squeeze.

When Jody came back downstairs, Dean was set up on the living room couch poring over the files and notes she'd pulled in relation to the case.

"What are we thinking? Vamps' nest?" he asked without looking up. When she didn't respond he glanced her way and was met with an expectant – and slightly admonishing – gaze. "What?" She flicked her eyes over toward the stairs and he knew damn well what.

"Who is she really, Dean? And if you say 'Allison' one more time I'm gonna smack you," she added when he began to protest.

"But that's who she is!"

"Alright, then who is she _to_ _you_?"

Dean opened and closed his mouth a couple times, unsure how to answer. "Cas tossed her in my lap. Asked me to look out for her."

He wasn't telling her the whole truth – Jody knew it, but she wasn't sure Dean himself knew it. "Dean…"

"She's in trouble, Jody, alright? I'm just trying to keep her breathing." And _god_ was that enough to handle without trying to answer the question she'd lobbed at him.

Jody narrowed her eyes, but figured it was as much explanation as she was going to get. "Alright. So… vamps' nest."

By the time morning broke, Dean and Jody had narrowed down the location of the nest to three potential locations – a warehouse, a farm, and, ironically, a church. All were abandoned and run-down and Dean was suddenly concerned that he couldn't recall his last tetanus shot.

"Nest is small, right? Maybe four or five?" Jody nodded. "I say we stake 'em out during the day, see which one the monsters are using as a hideout. Hell, maybe we can even catch them snoozing and put this whole thing to bed by lunch."

"Do you really think I would have called you in if it were that easy?"

"Alright, then why did you call me?" Dean swiped at his bloodshot eyes and dug deep circles into his temples. In his younger days he used to be able to go days without sleep and never miss a step. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Dean, there's a reason there are so few of them. They… well, they aren't quite like any vampires I've encountered before."

"Do they have fangs?"

"Yes."

"Do they bleed people dry?"

"Well, yes."

"Do they die when their heads are removed from their bodies?"

"I mean, probably, but –"

"Then they're just like every other vampire." Dean grabbed his bag and started for the door. "Let's go hunting." Jody hadn't moved by the time he got to the foyer and he paused. "What?"

"I believe you're forgetting something. Some _one_ ," she amended when he continued to stare blankly.

Dean's eyes flicked toward the stairs. He hadn't forgotten, he was just hoping like hell they could sneak out, kill the bloodsuckers, and make it back before Allison even knew they were gone. She'd be pissed, but it was better than putting her at risk.

"The house is warded?" Jody nodded. "She'll be fine for a few hours." Jody crossed her arms. "She can call if anything happens!" he growled, yanking open the door and making his way toward the car, as if the matter was settled.

"Idiot," she mumbled, shuffling toward a pad of paper to leave Allison a note before following after Dean.

Allison woke up feeling surprisingly rested. She sat up and reached her hands overhead, her back arching in a cat-like stretch. Her stiff muscles and the high sun in the sky indicated that it was well into the morning already, and so she wasn't surprised to have woken up alone. It wasn't until she wandered the rest of the house that she realized that she was, in fact, truly alone.

She hadn't realized how accustomed she'd grown to Dean's presence until it was no longer there; it was almost uncomfortable, the silence pressing down around her, and it made her anxious. That's when she noticed the sticky note on the front door.

 _Allison –_

 _Staking out vamps. Be back soon. Call if you need anything._

 _-Jody_

Allison crinkled the small piece of paper into a ball, her previous anxiety now replaced with a simmering anger. He said he wouldn't leave her.

It shouldn't have made her mad – he didn't owe her anything, and she was far from helpless. A part of her wanted to just strike out on her own. Well, she might not be helpless, but she wasn't stupid either; she couldn't watch her own back forever. For better or worse, she needed Dean – much more than he needed her, which annoyed the hell out of her.

Well, if Dean could bend his own rules, so could Allison. She rummaged through the kitchen and living room until she found Jody's car keys in a glass dish by the sofa table.

"Now where did you go?" she asked herself, scanning the room for clues. A few scraps of paper were strewn about, but he must have taken all the essential information with him. "Son of a bitch."

Allison plopped down on the couch, defeated. She twirled the key ring around her index finger with a metallic clang. The clock on the mantle clicked loudly and rhythmically. Every. Damn. Second. Even her own deep breaths sounded loud and dramatic in the emptiness of the house. She couldn't take it anymore; she may not have a destination, but anywhere was better than nowhere.

She found her way into the city, if you could even call it that; it was more like the downtown streets you'd see in a Hallmark movie than an actual town, complete with a farmers market and friendly old ladies offering samples on the sidewalk. Allison perused the selections, trying bits of spiced cheeses and breads and unusual fruits. By the time she'd completed a full circuit, she was rather stuffed. Not wanting to be that person who sampled everything and never bought anything, she went back to some of her favorite stalls, starting with the fresh baked pastries.

"Back again, love?" The sweet, grandmotherly lady, who was short and looked like she'd sampled a few too much of the product over the years, smiled warmly up at her.

"Uh, yes, I think I'd like to buy something. But I'm not sure what," she added as the woman stared her down.

A young girl with bright blue eyes and hair to match stepped around from behind the woman and put her hands on her shoulders. "I'll take this one, grandma." She looked up at Allison and narrowed her eyes, her gaze focused and discerning. "I'm getting the sense… that you may need some pie," she said with a satisfied nod.

Allison laughed. She knew how Dean felt about pie, but she might still be too mad to get him any. "Let me think about that one."

"No? I could have sworn you were here for pie." She closed her eyes and stuck her lips out in a pout. Allison had gone back to perusing the selections when her eyes popped open and she snapped her fingers. "Aha! I know what you want!" Instead of saying it, she simply grabbed a plastic container from the table and forced it into Allison's hands.

"What is it?" Allison examined the contents of the box, but couldn't really tell. It was white and creamy with dark bits of something in there.

"Just trust me."

"I'm sure it's amazing, but my stomach is a little… sensitive at the moment."

"Oh." The girl cocked her head to the side in confusion, then her eyes got wide and a huge smile spread across her face. "Oh! You're – are you…?" She put her hand at the top of her stomach and drew an exaggerated outward curve to the base.

"Little bit, yeah."

"Oh that's so exciting! Congratulations!"

"Uh, thanks –"

"Lea."

"Thank you, Lea. I'm Allison." She extended her hand, but Lea raced around the table and threw her arms around her. Allison was taken slightly off guard by the intimate embrace, but she seemed genuine and had a way of interacting with people that made you feel like you'd known each other for years.

She held on just a little too long, and when Lea did finally pull away, her eyes were shimmering with emotion. "Your child is going to do incredible things," she whispered as if in awe. Before Allison could respond to this odd declaration from a stranger, the dessert was thrust back into her hands. "It's on the house."

"Oh, I couldn't –"

"And –" Lea ran around behind the table; she opened up and rummaged through a couple boxes before pulling out a small plastic bag. "Take this too. It'll help with the… sensitive stomach."

Allison tentatively reached for the bag and looked at the small, tan, irregularly shaped cubes inside. "What is it?"

"Candied ginger. We use it for the ginger molasses cookies, but it's really good for helping with nausea and digestive issues." Allison sniffed at the opening tentatively. "The flavor's a little intense, so I wouldn't pop 20 in at once. But just try it."

Allison thought Lea might be a little off her rocker, but she was sweet, and just accepting the gift wouldn't do any harm. "Thanks, I… will?" It came out rather like a question, but was enough to earn another excited hug.

She was halfway to the car when her recent exotic food choices caught up with her sensitive digestive system and she felt a familiar twang twist in her gut. The summer heat was suddenly stifling and she sat down, leaning against the brick wall that encircled the park and trying to take measured breaths.

Allison glanced at the plastic bag still clutched in her hand, the sugared candy glinting in the sunlight. "Worth a shot," she muttered, popping a couple pieces into her mouth. The sensation was akin to downing a spoonful of wasabi, a little sweeter but just as overwhelming. For a few seconds, everything burned and tingled, then settled into a spicy cool. "Holy crap."

It was as if every passage in her body had been cleansed and cleared, and even the fog that had been clouding her mind was lifted. She felt better than she had in weeks.

Allison leapt up from the ground, owing Lea a massive IOU, when she saw she was with a customer. The man was dressed a little oddly for the weather – a long coat and hat in the dead of summer. Her grandmother was busy helping a family of six, and so missed when Lea's eyes glazed over, hands dropping to her sides. The man turned on his heels and walked away, tipping his hat toward Allison on his way by.

"Are you alright?" she asked, stepping up to the table.

It was several seconds before the glassy look left her eyes and she noticed Allison standing there. "I'm sorry, what?"

"That man, he –"

"What man?"

"He was just…" Allison looked behind her, but saw no trace of the guy. "You were just talking to him."

"I don't think so."

"But he –"

"There was no one!" Lea practically yelled. Her eyes widened, clearly taken off guard by her own vehemence. She cleared her throat and took a calming breath. "What… what can I do for you?"

"Nothing. I just- thank you. For the ginger." Lea looked at her uncomprehendingly. "It helped." Lea just continued to stare, and eventually her gaze became distant again.

Without another word exchanged, Allison walked back to the car and sat idling in the driver's seat, weighing her options. She could go back to Jody's house and try to forget the odd encounter – unlikely. She could follow Lea around the rest of the day and see if anything else out of the ordinary happened, but she didn't even know this girl – maybe this was ordinary behavior for her. She could ask for backup, but Dean and Jody were already working a case, and this may turn out to be nothing. Not to mention the fact that she was most definitely not supposed to be out and about on her own.

Allison decided that option two was the least objectionable, and settled down into her seat for the long haul. The small plastic container was still in her hand and she popped open the lid, pinching off a corner and tossing it into her mouth. She smiled. "Oreo."


	6. Chapter 6

The sun was getting low and Dean was getting antsy. They had been out all day and still had squat. The farm and the warehouse were as empty as they appeared. The old church had potential, with a few people trickling in and out throughout the day, but it was in the center of town – a little public for dragging in screaming victims.

Aside from this frustration, he hadn't heard from Allison; he would have thought she'd at least call to give him a piece of her mind about cutting her out of the loop. The fact that she hadn't was more concerning. Dean had been staring at his phone, debating whether or not to be the first one to call, when movement caught his eye.

"We've got another one," Jody said, motioning to the entrance of the church.

"She's going to church?"

"Why wouldn't she?"

"Well, with the shirt," he cut his hands across the center of his chest, "and the –" he pointed to his head.

"So because she's wearing a crop top and dyes her hair blue, she must be…"

"Not exactly a nun, in my experience," Dean scoffed. "What the –" It was several seconds later that another small, female body shuffled toward the door. This one, he recognized.

"Is that…"

"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered, throwing open the car door and catching Allison's arm just before she entered the church. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Allison gaped momentarily before reigning in her surprise. She glanced at the building she'd just been about to enter. "Praying?" Dean narrowed his eyes and began hauling her toward the Impala. "Hey, stop that!"

"You're not supposed to be here," he ground out between clenched teeth, trying to keep ahold of her as she squirmed in his grip. "How did you even find us?" He could have sworn he hadn't left a single shred of their research back at the house – for this very reason.

"Did it ever occur to you that I wasn't looking for _you_?" she hissed, finally wrenching her arm free.

Dean was taken off guard, and replayed the last few minutes again in his mind. "The emo chick?"

"Her name is Lea, and I think –" She paused; suddenly, with the weight of Dean's disapproving glare bearing down on her, Allison's suspicions seemed a little silly. "I think she's in trouble."

Dean pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, debating which discussion was the most pressing at the moment. He sighed, figuring that her danger senses were probably more sensitive than the average person; plus, what were the odds that their two independent stakeouts would lead to the exact same spot? "Get in the car and start from the beginning."

Allison explained the exchange she'd had earlier and the unusual man that had thrown a huge red flag in her mind.

"Sounds like," Jody looked down and flipped through a couple pages of notes until she found the reference she sought, "contestant number three. Guy matching that description entered this building around 11:07 this morning."

"I don't get it, though. This isn't their MO – why go through all the trouble of approaching someone in a crowded place in broad daylight? And why would she voluntarily walk right into some old musty church to meet up with a creepy dude that came up to her at work?"

"I dunno, maybe they didn't want her just to snack on."

"What do you mean?" Jody twisted around in her seat to look back at Allison. "What do you know?"

Allison blew out a breath. "Again, I don't _know_ anything. It's just, I got this sense when I talked to her, like she knew more about me than I had told her." Dean's hands stiffened on the steering wheel. "Not in a creepy way. More in, like, an 'everything's gonna be alright' kinda way?"

Dean frowned. "That makes no sense."

"Well I don't know how else to explain it. She hugged me, her eyes went all distant like those phony tv psychics, then she gave me exactly what I wanted without me even knowing what I wanted."

"Did you say psychic?"

"Yeah, if I didn't know better."

"That would explain the –" Dean waved his hands in the air incomprehensibly, though Jody seemed to know what he was referring to.

"Yes! It's why they left without a trace."

"Why no one questioned it."

"Excuse me, could someone please explain to me what's going on?" Allison looked between the two of them, but they simply continued unraveling their recent revelation.

"I thought I'd seen everything."

"What can a psychic vampire even do?"

"I'm sorry, did you say 'psychic vampire'?" Both Jody and Dean looked back at Allison. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Not sure – first I've heard of it."

"So there are such things as legit psychics? They do exist?" Demons and angels and monsters and magic, and now psychics? Was there anything in the history of fiction and fantasy that did not exist?

"Yeah, my brother, he –" He paused; they didn't have time for this. "Well, it's a long story, but yeah, psychics are real."

"So what does that have to do with Jody's vampires?"

"See, we couldn't figure it out. Every crime scene photo looked like some morbid all-you-can-eat buffet – no signs of struggle or chaos, just a bunch of bloodless bodies lined up in a neat little row. And now, I'm thinking maybe that's because they performed some of their head scrambling voodoo crap that took the fight right out of 'em. Just sat there waiting to be eaten." Dean wrinkled his nose at the thought; he'd hated all this psychic crap when Sam was caught up in it, and it didn't sit any better with him now.

"And Lea?"

"Recruitment." Jody looked down at her notes again. "As far as I can tell, there are only a few vampires in this nest. My guess is that they're only looking to turn people with similar skills."

"There goes the element of surprise – kinda hard to get the jump on monsters that can see the future." He thought for a moment. "Well, if we can't go the stealth route, we sure as hell better be well-armed." When Dean turned over the engine, Allison put a hand on his shoulder.

"What are you doing?"

"The blades in the trunk ain't gonna cut it. We need more fire power – hex bags; spells. Tinfoil hats, if that'll help."

"But Lea's already in there. They could be turning her right now!" They'd already wasted so much time playing catch-up. What they needed was to do their damn jobs and hunt the bloodsuckers.

"Yeah, and they could be turning us too if we just waltz in and bring our knives to a friggin' mind control fight!"

Allison stared at him for several seconds; she hadn't known him very long, but she knew that look well enough. Dean was digging his heels in, and his decision wasn't up for debate. Instead of engaging in a futile argument, she threw open the door and raced into the church.

"Allison!" It was at once an exclamation of surprise, fear, and anger. "Damnit."

Dean popped the trunk and Jody followed him to the back of the car.

"She's not wrong you know." Dean narrowed his eyes at her. "Like you're gonna know any better how to fight psychic vampires tomorrow." Jody placed her hands on her hips, waiting for him to concede the point.

They both loaded up an extra gun and tucked a few knives into various inconspicuous places beneath their clothes. Dean continued to mutter a stream of curses, sprinkled with a few choice phrases of exasperation, before slamming the lid of the trunk and trudging in after his reckless charge.

Before he could take two steps into the room, a hand snaked out and yanked his collar, dragging him into the shadows behind a column.

"What the –" he began, cut off by a hand clapping over his mouth.

Allison looked up at him angrily and put a finger to her lips, then pointed to the front of the church where several bodies were standing in a semi-circle. They wore dark hooded robes and were chanting in Latin; it would be fitting for the ancient church in which they stood, except that Dean actually understood the words they were reciting.

"What are they saying?" Jody whispered from behind the column to their right.

Dean listened for another minute until he picked up the last few phrases. "Shit," he muttered, looking up to glare at the good-for-nothing crucifix on the wall for a second before answering Jody's question. "It's a spell – see what they're holding?"

Both Jody and Allison turned and squinted.

"Hex bags?"

"Yeah. And based on that little a cappella performance going on, they're filled with some pretty nasty crap. We need to go. Now."

"But Dean –"

"We haven't got the firepower for this." They were running out of time to get the hell out of there before one of the bloodsuckers spotted them and turned them into mincemeat. He clamped his hand around Allison's bicep and was just about to haul her ass back to the car when he felt the change in the room.

It was eerily silent; the chanting had stopped. Lea was strapped to a chair in the center of their little half-circle and the cloaked figure on the end approached her. The man from the farmer's market took out a small knife and with one practiced motion carved a small Greek character into her chest.

"They're going to kill her!" Allison struggled desperately against Dean's iron grip, but he held firm.

"They don't want to kill her, they want to turn her."

"How is that any better?" Jody asked, the unhelpful question earning a glare from Dean.

"Whatever they're doing, that's not how you turn someone," he ground out through gritted teeth. Why were neither of them grasping the seriousness of the situation?

As they all looked on, again trying to comprehend everything that was going on, the lead vampire took the same knife, sliced into his palm, and pressed it against her wound. The reaction was instantaneous. Lea's neck snapped back and her eyes, now completely whitewashed, shone beams of light that reached the gilded ceiling. Her mouth was agape in a silent scream and she arched off the chair as if being pulled heavenward by her chest.

"No," Allison gasped, her feet automatically moving her forward.

"No!" Dean echoed, yanking her back to relative safety. She looked at him, wide-eyed and pleading, but his grip never loosened. "You. Stay. Here." He pointed to the floor beneath her feet. "Right here." She nodded. "Okay. Then let's go kill some psychic vampires." He rolled his eyes at the sheer ridiculousness of his own words, but Jody nodded in agreement and followed his lead.

Dean and Jody crouched from pew to pew. They were quiet, but vampire hearing tends to be on the exceptional side. Luckily, most of them were distracted by the light show that Lea was putting on. Only the two closest to them turned when the ancient wood floor beneath their feet let out a deep groan.

Jody dodged to the right while Dean rolled forward. With skilled efficiency and one smooth stroke, he detached its head from its body.

Jody didn't have the same luck. The vampire that followed after her used its powers to make her see things that weren't there. Whatever it was elicited an agonized scream, and any element of surprise was lost. Dean flung his knife into the vamp's back; it wouldn't kill it, but it paused long enough for Jody to come back to herself and finish the job.

The vampire that had attached itself to Lea only stopped when Dean slammed into him from the side. She slumped in the chair as Dean wrestled with his opponent.

The sounds of splintered wood and inhuman shrieks filled the air, and Allison cringed as Jody went flying into one of the stained glass windows. She felt like a coward, hiding in the shadows while others got hurt. But Dean was right. She could easily put another's safety above her own, but it wasn't just her own life she'd be risking.

It took everything she had to stay rooted to that spot, but once the vamps were clear of Lea's chair, she skirted around the outside of the pews to the front of the church. Lea's head was bowed, the strange symbol on her chest still weeping blood. Allison silently made her way to the girl and pressed her fingers into her neck; a strong, though slow, thump pounded against beneath.

"Lea? Can you hear me? Open your eyes." Lea's head lolled to the side as a groan escaped her lips. "That's it. They're not going to hurt you anymore."

The psychic's eyes fluttered open and she gave Allison a weak smile. As she scanned the room, her eyes fell on Dean, who was slowly making his way over to them. The scowl plastered across his face told Allison that he did not approve her current involvement and he would most certainly have something to say about it later.

"Jody, start the car."

Okay, maybe they were going to hash this out right now. Jody did as he said, but not before giving him a stern look of her own.

"No." Lea's eyes widened. "He's –" She didn't even have time to finish delivering her warning before Dean was thrown to the side.

"Dean!" His head had been bashed against the solid wood of the altar and his body lay next to it, unmoving. The vampire that had been hidden amongst the massive organ pipes leapt down and stalked toward the hunter that had decimated his family.

"He's going to kill him," Lea whispered breathlessly. She looked away, unable to witness this future that she'd already seen played out in her mind.

An anger and grief she didn't know she possessed welled up within Allison. In that moment, she didn't care about the consequences of her actions. She stood and stalked toward the vampire, positioning herself between it and Dean. It stopped and cocked its head at her.

"Interesting," he drawled, sounding and looking eerily similar to the evil emperor from Star Wars.

"Why? I'm no psychic."

"No, but I am. And do you know what my abilities entail?" Allison shivered, getting a bad feeling about this. "I can read people's auras." She glanced at Dean's still form – he hadn't thrown _himself_ against the table. "Among other things." He smiled.

"And what does my aura say?" She didn't really care, but she was buying time while she thought of a plan. Dean's knife had skittered under the front pew, if only she could find a way to reach it.

"Oh, not yours, darling." His grin widened and Allison's hand instinctively went to her stomach. "That's right. I've never seen anything quite like it." He took a few steps toward her and she mirrored him, taking a few steps back. "And since you seem to have relieved me of my family, it is only fair that you give me a new one."

Before she knew it, Allison was thrown backward, landing in a colorful mosaic of broken glass. The vampire was on top of her before she even had a chance to sit up.

"I've never turned a woman with child before. Would it turn the child too, I wonder?" He leaned over and grazed his teeth against her wrist. "There's only one way to find out."

Fangs bared, he prepared to strike. About halfway down, his head jerked back like a dog on a chain. Dean had a rope around its neck and yanked backwards, lifting the weight off of Allison's body.

"Go!" he shouted, digging his foot into the vampire's back in an attempt to keep his leverage on the cord. Allison glanced back and noted that the chair Lea had occupied was empty. Either she had been collected by Jody or she had escaped; either way, she was safe. "Now!" he cried as the vampire fell backward, crushing Dean beneath him.

Allison dove beneath the first row of wooden seats, in one motion grabbing the handle of the knife and tossing it in Dean's direction. Though the monster's hands were around his throat, Dean caught it midair and sliced a clean cut through its neck, relieving its head from its body.

They both remained on the floor for several moments, coughing and gasping. When Dean had come to and saw that vampire on top of Allison, his heart damn near stopped. In that moment, he would've given anything to keep her safe.

Now that she was, he was pissed the hell off.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean didn't say a word the entire way back to Jody's, his face an unreadable mask. Despite his anger, Dean insisted that he and Allison stay in the same room , for safety purposes. He threw the weapons bag into the corner with more force than necessary, knocking it into the side table and displacing an alarm clock and a small notebook.

Jody looked between the two of them; the tension was palpable, and she wondered if either of them recognized the true source of their passion. "I'm gonna go start dinner," she announced awkwardly, spinning around and leaving the two of them to hash it out.

There was a moment of silence as they stared each other down. "What the hell were you thinking?" Dean finally shouted, gesturing like an Italian bard.

"You're welcome," she muttered in reply, stripping off her torn jacked and frowning at the matching holes in the sweater beneath.

"You could have gotten yourself killed! I had it under control!" He was still yelling, holding onto the outer shell of anger so as not to dwell on exactly what emotion was fueling that ire.

"Bull. Shit."

"I told you to wait in the back."

"Which I did! I did wait. And I watched as you and Jody were tossed around like goddamn ragdolls. And I did _nothing_ , Dean!" she hissed, tears stinging at the corners of her eyes and Dean's expression softened. Damn hormones. She didn't want to cry, she was angry! Or maybe terrified. Or exhausted. Probably all three. "And then you hit your h-head against that altar." Her voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "You didn't… you weren't moving. I thought –" Her thoughts were interrupted by the fat, uncontrollable tears that began streaming down her cheeks.

Dean's resolve faltered; he hated seeing chicks cry in general, but this was new. Girls were known to cry _because_ of him, but this was the first time one had cried _for_ him and it nearly broke his damn heart. Still, he tried to remain firm and blew out a breath. "You weren't thinking, Allison; it's not just you you've gotta look out for anymore."

"But I can't- I can't-" …get out an entire sentence, apparently.

Dean stepped forward so he was close enough that he had to look down at her. "Yes. You can." Allison pressed her lips tightly together, her face scrunched in an attempt to hold back tears, and shook her head. "You're strong enough for this." He reached out and covered her stomach with his large hand. "You're strong enough for _this_."

She covered his hand with hers and leaned into him, taking deep breaths until the tears dried up. "I'm sorry I ran into the church," she conceded, though he didn't offer an apology of his own. With her head against his chest, she was soothed by the slow, steady thump of his heartbeat against her cheek. Her free hand traveled aimlessly across his torso, dipping into the crevices between his well-defined abs and tracing the deep valley of his sternum.

His muscles clenched involuntarily, taken off guard by the unexpected – though not unpleasant – stimulation. His hand twisted into the fabric of her shirt, bringing her closer. Her hips rocked gently against him and he closed his eyes in an attempt to override his more primal nature. God, who even was he anymore?

"We shouldn't do this," he warned.

"Do what?' she asked innocently, her voice deep and velvety.

Just a moment ago she had been crying her eyes out and now she was rubbing up against him like a horny teenager. He couldn't keep up with her mood swings, and told himself they were still just coming down from the adrenaline high, they were both just looking for a release. And he didn't know whether that logic was an argument for or against sleeping together.

Dean's hand traveled up her waist and over her ribs, his thumb just barely brushing the tip of her hardened nipple as his palm grazed her breast on its way to rest on her shoulder.

"Mmm," she moaned, arching her back in response, which caused her chest to jut out and press against his.

"This is a bad idea," he reiterated, though with less conviction than before.

"Why?" she breathed, her own hands reaching under his shirt at the small of his back. She dragged her fingers up and down his spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps along his skin and a swirling heat within his core.

"I'm supposed to be protecting you," he ground out between his teeth.

She ducked under his arm so that she was curled around his back, her hands now roaming his chest and stomach. "You're supposed to be satisfying all of my needs." She planted kisses from the tip of one shoulder blade to the other and tucked one of her hands just beneath the waistline of his jeans, right below his bellybutton. "I need this. Pleasssse," she begged, lingering on the 's'.

Dean was at a loss. He rarely turned down the things he wanted, whether it be booze, violence, or sex – and god, did he want the sex right now. But something still nagged at him, telling him he shouldn't do this. He tried to shove that feeling into the deepest recesses of his mind.

Dean was standing still as a statue, neither engaging in nor denying her request, and Allison began to doubt herself. She removed her hands from his body and placed her chin on his shoulder so she could whisper in his ear. "It's okay, Dean. W-we don't have to." Dean sighed at the disappointment evident in her voice, turning his head to rest his temple on hers. "I know… I know I'm not –"

She struggled to give voice to one of the many insecurities she had about herself in that moment. She was short. Her nose was too big. Her hips were too small. She was confused and afraid and in mourning. She was stubborn. She had commitment issues. And a temper. And oh yeah – she was carrying another man's baby.

Dean whipped around when he felt fresh tears blossoming on his cotton t-shirt. She turned away from his scrutinizing gaze, embarrassed and hurt by his rejection. "I'm gonna take a shower," she murmured, taking off toward the bathroom with her impromptu excuse.

"Hey, wait a second," Dean said, jogging around her and blocking her hasty retreat.

"What, Dean? I said it's fine," she gruffed, swiping hastily at the wetness still beneath her eyes.

"Is it?" He had been grappling with his own moral boundaries when her intentions had changed so suddenly, he wasn't exactly sure what had happened.

Allison was practically hopping in place; why couldn't he just let her go and lick her wounds in peace already? "Yes, Dean. It's either there or it's not. It was for me, and I thought…" Now that the fog of arousal had cleared from her head, she didn't know what she'd been thinking. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

She turned again to go into the bathroom, but he still had hold of her arm. "Hold on a damn minute, here." Allison stopped pulling, but didn't turn back to face him. "You think- you think I stopped what was happening back there because… because I wasn't _attracted_ to you?" The idea sounded ridiculous to him; in fact, it was a goddamn miracle that the button of his jeans was still holding his pants together in the midst of his straining erection.

Allison flinched and shrugged her free shoulder; it sounded shallow and petty when he put it that way, and she mistook his incredulity for ridicule. "Or it would be too… complicated." She couldn't help glancing down at her stomach, which didn't escape Dean's notice.

Damn it all to hell; well, this is what Dean got when he tried to be fucking chivalrous and do the honorable thing – blue balls and a crying woman he'd somehow convinced was undesirable. He wanted to take her right then and there, just to show her hot goddamn sexy he thought she was. But he knew the twisted way women's minds worked, and she would probably just see it as a pity lay.

"Can I go now?"

Dean released his grip, which he hadn't even realized he still had on her, and she shuffled into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

Allison spun the water on full blast and tried to keep the waves of emotion at bay, but she had trouble determining whether she was mad or humiliated or just sexually frustrated. Her perceptions shifted often and unexpectedly, catching her off guard with their intensity and nearly causing her knees to buckle. In her unstable state, a bath probably would have been the safer bet, but she was hoping that the squeal of the hot water running would muffle her outbursts. It didn't.

Dean sat on the bed, back against the wall, as he listened to the cries of the girl on the other side of the door. Crying because of him. Because they both wanted to have sex, but for some goddamn stupid reason he had fucked it all up.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid." He muttered the mantra over and over as he banged his head against the drywall. When the water shut off, he quickly sprawled out horizontally and pretended to be asleep, trying to save them both from any unnecessary confrontation. Allison took her time before coming back into the room – as much time as possible, examining the contents of the medicine cabinet, drawing shapes in the steamy mirror – and by the time she slipped on some clean clothes, he wasn't pretending anymore.

Allison padded out of the room and down the stairs to the kitchen where, as promised, Jody was busily dicing and sautéing more fresh food than she'd seen in days.

"Two go in, only one comes out. I don't need to know the details, but I'd appreciate a heads up if there are blood stains on any of the linens." She looked at Allison seriously. "'Cause that's gonna need to soak."

Allison smiled, but it was more polite than amused. "Anything I can do to help?"

"How are you with a knife?"

"Fantastic, but Dean is sleeping and I probably shouldn't be trusted with sharp objects at the moment." She smiled innocently as Jody tossed her a wooden spoon, nodding to the package of meat that was browning on the stove.

They settled into a comfortable silence for a few minutes, but a sudden wall of nausea hit Allison over the head like a ton of bricks. The potent spices rode a wave of hot, wet steam from the greasy meat and caused her to double over, desperately swallowing back the bile that simmered at the base of her throat. She couldn't escape the smell in the kitchen, and wasn't sure she would make it to the bathroom, and so instead threw open the side door and stumbled out onto the porch.

Without missing a beat, Jody finished cooking the meat and turned off the stove before joining Allison outside. She inhaled deeply, savoring the cool, crisp night air.

Allison was hunched over the railing, head resting on crossed arms. "I'm sorry," she said, though the sound was muffled against her skin.

"Don't worry about it. When I was pregnant with my son, my morning sickness was so bad I threw up in my mother-in-law's urn. At least you made it to the bushes." Allison turned to gape at her. "What, like it wasn't obvious?"

"Dean never seemed to pick up on it."

"Yeah, well, Dean's a guy, and guys are idiots." Allison picked at a fleck of paint peeling off the wooden railing. "Is it… I mean, is Dean…?"

Allison shook her head. "Nope. Just doing a friend a favor." She met Jody's inquisitive gaze. "You know how he does that." It was why they were there.

"I do. But honey, I've known Dean a long time, and the way he looks at you?" Allison averted her gaze and crossed her arms over her chest. Jody put a hand on her shoulder and she flinched. "You're not just a favor."

After that, Jody banished Allison from the kitchen, insisting that she relax on the couch until dinner was ready.

Dean cracked his eyes open, his other senses having picked up on the fact that there was food somewhere in the house waiting to be eaten. His head was throbbing and his ribs ached, but what hurt the worst was that he'd woken up alone.

"Time to pay the piper," he muttered to himself, wiping the sleep from his eyes and swapping out his battle-worn t-shirt for a flannel button down.

"I was just about to come get ya," Jody said as he rounded the stairs, placing a final dish in the center of the small dining room table.

"Where's –" Jody nodded toward the couch and Dean walked up behind it. He leaned against the back, his large hands squishing deep indents into the overstuffed pillows as he watched the steady rise and fall of her chest. "I'm sorry. You deserve better," he confessed in barely more than a whisper. He leaned down to place a chaste kiss on her temple before going to sit down across from Jody. She was staring at him with an expectant, almost admonishing expression. "What?"

"You do right by her, Dean Winchester." Jody extracted a large corner of the lasagna and flopped it onto Dean's plate.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I just hope you know what you're getting yourself into."

Dean shoveled of forkful of the pasta into his mouth and scowled. "I didn't get _myself_ into anything."

"Oh, that's right. Because you're just doing a favor. For a friend." Her words dripped with sarcasm.

"Yeah, I am. And it's almost cost me my ass about half a dozen times already." Jody crossed her arms over her chest and continued to stare. "And I like my ass; it's a good ass!"

"Dean, I know this is not your area of expertise, but listen to me. Being a parent is hard; being a single parent is damn near superhuman. And I don't know what the grand plan is, but the longer you're in that girl's life – a day, a month, a year? – the harder it'll be for both of you when you do cut ties."

Dean took a long draw on the beer he'd been nursing and then clanked the empty bottle down on the table. He leaned back in the wooden chair and ran his hands down his face. "What am I gonna do?"

"Well, what is it that you want?"

Dean let out a bark of laughter; it was only recently that he had asked Allison that very same question. Funny enough, the only answer he had was the same as hers had been. "I can't have what I want." Jody cocked an eyebrow at him. "Alright, it would be a really bad idea for me to have what I want."

Jody pursed her lips and shook her head sadly. "You're both idiots."

"Smart enough to save your ass today," he muttered, mouth full.

The meal continued with no more discussion of the future, instead focusing on the present. Dean talked about Sam and his sudden independent streak, for some reason feeling it necessary to perform solo missions and reclaim his future or some crap like that; and Jody gushed over how well her misfit 'children' were doing, considering their tumultuous upbringing.

Two hours had passed before Dean finally dropped his fork with a clang – a white flag of surrender signaling that he was officially stuffed. "Should we, uh –" he nodded to the other room where Allison was still snoozing away.

"I wouldn't, but she's probably going to be starving when she does wake up."

Dean helped Jody clear the table, load the dishwasher, and put away the leftovers. When there was nothing left to do, she went to bed but told Dean to make himself at home. He hovered in indecision for a minute before going into the living room.

Allison was on her back, and Dean gingerly lifted her legs to take a seat at the end of the couch, placing her petite ankles into his lap. Before long, she had twisted and fidgeted enough to turn herself entirely around so that her head rested on Dean's thighs. He absently ran his fingers through her soft hair, continuing the motion down her neck and back. Despite the fact that they'd only known each other a few days, this felt normal; it felt _good_.

"Maybe we can make this work," Dean said to no one in particular.

He must have dozed off at some point, because the next time Dean opened his eyes he was on the couch alone. There was some rummaging and clanging in the kitchen, and he was about to draw his weapon when he saw Allison's short legs dangling off the countertop on which she perched. She was shamelessly digging into cold leftovers – lasagna, salad, bread, and chocolate cake all thrown together on the same plate and swirled together in an indistinguishable mass.

"Hungry?"

Allison narrowed her eyes at him. "Only because no one bothered to tell me when the damn food was ready." She shoveled another forkful into her mouth – this particular combination seemed to consist of mozzarella cheese, lettuce, and buttercream frosting.

"Someone's cranky at –" he glanced at the oven clock, "3:30 in the morning."

Allison snorted. Cranky was not the word she would have used for her current state; uncomfortably horny, maybe. "Hey, you entered into conversation with a tired, hungry pregnant woman of your own volition. I take no pity on you," she said gesturing to him with her utensil.

"Fair enough," he conceded, stepping into the room. "Speaking of which… I was thinking—well, you're gonna be on someone's hit list as long as that bun's in your oven and I think the safest thing to do would be to have you stay in the bunker with me and my brother at least until you have the kid and then if we all live that long we can figure out where to go from there." The words tumbled out of him in one long, unbroken stream and when he finally paused for a breath he noticed that Allison was gaping at him. "I mean, if you want."

Allison sat there processing for a moment. He was offering so much – his home, his support, his family, his life. She set the plate down and hopped down onto the floor; she closed the gap between them and looked up into his unreadable eyes. "Are you sure?" This was no small commitment. It was too much. It was—

He nodded.

Allison took another step forward and rested her forehead against his strong chest. Dean's arms circled around her shoulders and his hands traced soothing patterns into her back. It was at that moment that her stomach announced with a loud gurgle that it was still not quite full. Dean pulled back and the corner of his mouth quirked up. He reached over and grabbed her plate from the counter, setting it back into her hands.

"Now. Finish this god-awful concoction you call dinner, get some rest, and we'll head out in the morning."


	8. Chapter 8

They set out just after sunrise, but it was a long drive to the bunker and it was well past midnight when the Impala finally sputtered to a stop in the garage. Not surprisingly, Allison had passed out in the front seat hours earlier. Dean tried to shake her awake, but damn if those pregnancy hormones weren't more potent than a tranquilizer dart to the jugular. Well, he couldn't very well leave her in the car.

"Up you go," he said with a grunt, simultaneously lifting her up bridal style and nudging the door closed behind him with his foot. The movement roused her enough that she managed to tuck her arms across her stomach and lean her head against Dean's shoulder, though her legs still dangled loosely over his forearm.

He paused at the beginning of the hallway and debated where to put her. There were spare rooms, of course, but years of disuse had made them dusty and unwelcoming. He made a mental note to clean one up the next day; or maybe two – did babies sleep in separate rooms? It was never a luxury his family had had to consider.

Dean mentally shook himself; he was getting way too ahead of himself.

There was also Sam's room, but he wasn't sure exactly when his brother would be returning from his vision quest or whatever, and didn't want anyone to end up accidentally shooting anyone. Which happened far more frequently than you'd expect.

That left Dean's room. He tapped the door open with his hip and kicked aside the dirty clothes that peppered the floor as he made his way over to the bed. He leaned down to put Allison on top of the covers, but the sudden downward motion caused her to instinctually reach up and lock her arms around his neck and their downward momentum led Dean tumbling right on top of her.

Finally, Allison's eyes popped open and a mixture of emotions flashed through her tired brain at finding Dean's face just inches from hers, his body pressed heavily against her chest and nestled between her legs.

"Uh, welcome home?" Dean watched as her pupils dilated with desire, with longing. She wrapped one of her legs around his and grazed the length of his leg with her foot. Allison bit the corner of her lip and Dean was so tense with the effort it took not to taste it for himself that he didn't even think he was breathing.

The mood only lasted a few seconds before Allison remembered that Dean had rejected her advances the night before. This wasn't what he wanted and she had to respect that. He was already giving up so much for her, and it was unfair for her to ask this of him as well.

"I'm sorry. I know- I know you don't…"

Dean sighed and hung his head low enough that it rested between her perfect – and noticeably aroused – breasts and debated within himself. She was vulnerable. He shouldn't take advantage. She probably felt like she owed him. He would definitely fuck this up somehow.

 _Ah, screw it_.

Dean pressed his lips to her skin, planting a trail of kisses up her sternum until he got to the base of her neck.

"Dean?" It was a question, an invitation, and a plea all in one desperate whisper. One hand massaged her breast while the other traveled down her rib cage, over her hip, across her pelvis, and settled on her inner thigh; the thumb of that hand flicked upward periodically and she gasped in surprised pleasure. He brought his hand back up and slipped it beneath the hem of her shirt, grazing his fingers across her stomach, which was still taut with a fair amount of muscle, but there was a softness to it. "Dean." He had been staring at the spot beneath her navel for a moment too long, and the way she said his name caused him to look up at her. Her eyes were gentle, almost sad. "We should get some sleep."

Damnit, how had he managed to screw this up again?

Dean blew out a sigh and untangled himself from Allison's limbs. He rolled onto his back beside her and she plastered her body to his side, wedging her shoulder under his arm and using his chest as a pillow.

Allison woke up first, executing the usual routine of sprinting to the bathroom and throwing up whatever remained in her stomach from the night before. Dean was never far behind, and after a glass of water and thorough teeth brushing he gave her the grand tour. Their last stop was the kitchen, where Dean generously allowed her to pick amongst the entirety of their extensive cereal collection.

Half of the boxes were brightly colored, full of sugar, and featured some sort of cartoon character on the front; the others were store brand and contained words like 'bran' and 'flax'. Allison split the difference and filled half her bowl with something frosted and the other half with something fibrous.

Dean, of course, had his full to the brim with a kind that was vaguely fruit-shaped and so shiny that she would almost swear it was coated in glitter. They had just poured the milk and sat down to eat when the front door clanged open and a loud thud rang through the bunker as a heavy bag was dropped on the floor.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled, half in question, half in greeting.

"Dean!" Sam's booming reply from the other room was accompanied by more thwunks as more weapons were deposited in the living room.

"I guess your brother's home?" She didn't know why, but Allison was actually a little nervous to meet Dean's brother. They had gotten along so well by themselves, and she wasn't sure how well a third person would fit into the dynamics of their relationship. Well, fourth person if you counted Cas.

"Don't let his size scare you. He's actually the softie of the family," Dean said to reassure her, giving a little wink. "Come in the kitchen – we have a guest!" Dean yelled to the other side of the bunker.

There was some rustling followed by a heavy set of footsteps that got increasingly louder until the younger Winchester stood at the threshold of the room. Allison's eyes went wide and her mouth popped open, though no sound came out.

"Sam, this is –"

"Allie?" Sam's brows furrowed in confusion, then widened in surprise as he took a few steps into the room.

"Sam is your brother?" The question was directed at Dean, but Allison her eyes never left Sam as they narrowed and she pushed her chair back from the table.

"You know her?" Dean looked to Sam, who hadn't ventured any further into the kitchen. "You know him?" he repeated the question to Allison, who stood up, marched over to the younger Winchester, and socked him square in the chin. It was a glancing blow – she could only get so much leverage on the man that was a head and a half taller than her – but she'd had plenty of practice and it would definitely leave a mark.

"Whoa, hey, what the hell?" Dean queried, racing past Sam – who was opening and closing his jaw to make sure it was still intact; it was, though there was an unusual clicking sound accompanying the movement – to grab Allison by the arm. "Slow down, sweetheart."

Allison was in no mood to be manhandled. "Get off of me," she warned, though Dean's grasp never wavered. She yanked back painfully on Dean's thumb, loosening his grip on her enough to spin out and away from him.

"Where do you think you're going? You can't just walk out the front door!" Dean yelled, his ego more bruised than his hand as he went after her with greater force this time.

"Leave me alone!" she screeched, making a beeline for the exit. Dean clamped his strong arms around her chest and trapped the entirety of her upper body in a vice-like grip, even going so far as to lift her feet off the ground as she twisted and flailed.

"Calm. Down," he grunted, struggling with her powerful limbs.

"Let go! Let go of me!" Dean shifted her weight in his grasp, simultaneously lifting her up and spinning her around so he was carrying her over his shoulder like a sack of flour. Her legs were pinned in place against his chest, so she settled for pounding her fists against the taught muscles of his back – heavy blows that were sure to leave bruises the next day – but he managed to haul her into the only bedroom that locked from the outside. He had never previously considered why the room existed, but he was thankful for it now.

"Stay," he commanded her like a dog, tossing her now limp form onto the center of the bed. There was no use struggling; she could never overpower either of the brothers in a competition of one-on-one brute strength.

"It was him. He killed her," she half whispered, half sobbed. Dean paused in his stride; her voice was muffled by the comforter, and he wasn't sure he'd heard her correctly. "He killed my mother."

He heard that clear as day. Dean swallowed hard, then exited the room, clicking the door softly shut behind him. He hesitated only a moment before sliding the deadbolt into place.

"You wanna tell me what the hell you did to piss a girl off that much?" Dean said to the door, sensing his brother's presence behind him.

"You wanna tell me how an old open-and-shut case ended up back in our kitchen?" Sam countered.

Ahh, so Sam had met her on a case, and he assumed that whatever he'd been hunting clawed its way back to wreak more havoc and destruction. "You first," Dean prompted; he was afraid telling his side of the story first would cause Sam to withhold some important details.

Sam blew out a deep breath and ran a hand through his long hair. "I don't know, man. It was easy. Well, as easy as our job ever is," he amended with a grimace. "There was a vamp nest in town. I found 'em, got rid of 'em. End of story." He threw his hands up in a gesture of surrender and exasperation.

That may have been the end of the story, but it certainly wasn't the whole story. Or much of a story at all, really. "And the girl?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder toward the bedroom he'd dropped Allison in.

Sam's cheeks reddened slightly and his eyes flickered quickly around the room, trying but unable to hold Dean's scrutinizing gaze. "Uh, yeah. So she was a bartender in town." Dean narrowed his eyes and now the tips of Sam's ears were even burning. "What? I can have a drink even when you're not around," he said defensively, now completely avoiding eye contact.

"And you, what? Left a lousy tip?" Sam only ever got this awkward and squirrely when he touched on something he was ashamed of. Like when he pick-pocketed sympathetic passersby when they were kids and didn't have enough money for dinner that night. Or now, when he'd obviously hooked up with a girl he barely knew and then skipped town.

Sam grunted and crossed his arms over his chest. "No, I did my job. And unfortunately, Allie had to see that." Sam looked up and around the room before returning to Dean's expectant gaze. "And… unfortunately her mom was one of them."

Ah, hell; of course she was pissed at him. Then a thought occurred to him. "Wait? Where was this? Why wasn't I there?"

"Uh, northern California? Somewhere around Sacramento, I think." Dean wracked his brain, but he could not remember catching a case out there. "I was already out that way – visiting some old Stanford friends while you were down for the count with the sniffles," he teased.

"It was the flu," Dean corrected automatically, though there wasn't as much annoyance at the understatement as there should have been. His brain worked backwards as a few pieces fell into place. It hadn't been that long ago since he had been achy and bedridden – six weeks, tops – and he had to grip the back of a chair for support as a realization dawned on him. "Sammy, did you sleep with her?"

Sam was taken aback by the blunt question that seemed to come out of left field. "What? Why?"

"Sam, this is important." Dean had his suspicions, but he needed confirmation.

"Uh, okay. Then, yeah, I guess we did spend one night together." He was staring at Dean, seeking some sort of explanation, but his brother had gone very quiet.

It was Sam. Sam was the father of Allison's baby. He didn't know why it hadn't clicked earlier. Allison had said her mother's passing was very recent, the grief still raw. And Cas- did Cas know that Sam was the father? He must have at least known about the hunt, which is why he sent only Dean to retrieve her. And based on her reaction tonight, that was a good fucking idea; she never would have gone anywhere with Sam.

Sam was going to be a father. Dean was going to be an uncle. He should have been happy, but the thought twisted like a knife in his gut.

"Dean, what's going on?"

Dean buried his own feelings and put them on lockdown for the moment. His was the life least affected by this whole deal; he could process later. "You might, uh… you might wanna sit down, Sammy." He pulled out the chair he'd been gripping tightly, but Sam stayed rooted in place.

"Dean?"

"Allison –" he began, but cut himself off. Maybe she should be the one to tell him. Hell, maybe he had jumped to too many conclusions and had this whole thing figured wrong! He didn't think so, though, and Sam just stood there waiting. "Well, it's a long story, but the gist of it is… see…" Dean rubbed a hand down the stubble of his jaw – a nervous tell. "Allison's pregnant." He could see Sam's mind working furiously, but it hadn't quite put two and two together yet. "Pretty sure it's yours."


	9. Chapter 9

"Pregnant?" Sam felt like he had been kicked in the chest. "But it was, it was just the once?"

"Well one time is all it takes there, Sammy," he said in his best after school special imitation. The humor was lost on him as Sam flopped into the waiting chair Dean had offered him earlier. "Wanna tell me exactly what happened?" he prompted when Sam remained silent.

"Uh, yeah. Okay, sure." Sam cleared his throat and adjusted his position in the chair. His eyes were still a little unfocused and Dean wondered if he'd actually get a coherent story out of the boy. "Yeah, so… like I said, it was easy. I was visiting friends, caught wind of a case nearby. There were bodies left and right, holes in the neck, bloody; all classic vampire. Pretty messy, actually. Amateur. Focusing on quantity over quality, I guess. Pain in the ass to find, though. They were holed up in a bunch of yuppie glamping vans in the Rockies –"

"Glamping?"

"Yeah, like 'glamorous camping', where they're technically in the woods, but have, like, hot tubs and satellite tv and stuff." Sam and Dean shared a mutually indignant eye roll; as far as they were concerned, if you hadn't spent two weeks alone in the wilderness with nothing but a knife and a canteen, you hadn't been camping. "So yeah, they were tough to find. But most of 'em couldn't have been more than a few weeks old, so…"

Dean hummed in understanding. He'd put money on one experienced, calculating hunter over a half a dozen thoughtless, blood-crazed vamps any day. "And Allison?"

Sam blew out a puff of air and leaned back in his chair, running a hand through the hair at the base of his neck as he looked toward the ceiling. "I mean, the nest was hard to find. I stayed in town a couple days, made in good with some of the locals."

"A little too good, apparently," Dean mumbled before he could stop himself and Sam shot him an unamused glare.

"So I was asking around, and Allie… well, she was… helpful." Sam's eyes flicked over to his brother, but Dean had managed to bite back whatever smartass remark had been on the tip of his tongue. "Her dad was a hunter back in the day; recognized that I was, too. Her mom had just gone missing and she was worried and offered to help, so we ended up back at her place to do some research and –"

Dean held up his hand. "Don't need to know the finer details, little bro." He'd had enough 'research' partners in his life to know how that ended up, and was already a little nauseous just thinking about it.

Sam flushed and cleared his throat again. "Right. Well after… that night… we, uh, we had narrowed down their possible hideouts to a few remote campsites in the state park. I wanted to go alone, but Allie –"

"Was a stubborn little spitfire that wore you down until she got her way?" Dean supplied. Sam quirked an eyebrow at him and he shrugged. "Just… I know the feeling."

"Right. So, yeah she tagged along. Actually came in quite handy. Knew the trails better than those stupid maps and worn down signs. Probably saved me at least half a day's hike." Dean smiled; he could almost picture her frowning down at the cartoony park maps and scoffing, instead pointing imperiously down a different path until her companion yielded to her higher authority. "So the second camp we scoped out –"

"Vamp city?"

"Bingo. Again, I told Allie to stay behind."

"Which, of course, she ignored."

"And I went in, and, well… started swinging." Sam closed his eyes and ran his hands down his face. "There were just so many of them. I was in survival mode, you know? If it had fangs, it lost its head." Though Sam was still lost in his reverie, Dean nodded. He understood what it was like in the chaos of battle. One hesitation, one second guess could mean the difference between gettin' dead and walking away. "I didn't even hear her screaming until it was all over."

Despite them both knowing that Sam did what had to be done, his brother still looked devastated at the memory. "There's nothing you coulda done differently. I would've done the same thing. It's okay, Sammy."

"No, it's not. She—you didn't see her face. It was… god, I've done some terrible things, but… I mean, can you imagine if someone had done that to mom?" he asked, finally returning Dean's gaze. "If some hunter had just blown through town and killed her right in front of us, monster or not?" Dean was silent; they both knew exactly how they would react. "And we barely even knew mom, Dean! But Allie…"

"It's not your fault, Sam. You're just… we're all just doing the best we can."

Sam nodded, but it was more a reflex than an agreement. "I took away the only family she had, Dean. And now I… she's –" He looked up toward the ceiling, squinting in an attempt to reign in the current stinging sensation in his eyes.

"I know. And I know you're gonna beat yourself up about this no matter what I say, but what's done is done, alright?" He waited for Sam to nod before continuing. "Alright. So. One step at a time."

Sam looked at his brother then, eyebrows furrowed. "What even is the first step? God, where do I even go from here?"

Dean pursed his lips, thinking. "Well, I would suggest maybe start with talkin' to your baby mama in there." Dean pointed a finger toward the locked bedroom, earning an exasperated look. "Too soon?" Sam rolled his eyes, but soon the worry lines were back in his forehead. "Eh, on second thought you might end up with a broken jaw if you go in there right now." Sam rubbed at the tender spot on his chin, wincing in agreement. "So here's what we'll do. You will go to your room, take a shower because you smell like too-damn-long-on-the-road. Then, I dunno, read or do crossword puzzles or whatever it is you do with your nerdy self in your spare time," this earned him another agitated sigh, "and I'll come get you when… well, when there's somethin' to come get you about."

Sam folded his hands in his lap and shrugged. "Sure." He was still at a loss and it was as good a plan as any. As he got up from the table, Dean grabbed his forearm, holding on until he met his gaze.

"It's gonna be alright." It was confusing and frustrating and somewhat terrifying, but he had to believe that there was a happy ending somewhere in all of this.

"Sure," Sam repeated, offering a small and none too convincing smile as he pulled out of his brother's grasp. When did the curveballs thrown into their lives ever up as anything less than disastrous, and on more than one occasion, apocalyptic?

It was several hours before Dean dared to enter the room – alright, prison – he'd locked Allison in. It had a bathroom; he wasn't a monster. But after Sam's startling appearance, she hadn't ended up eating anything and now it was lunchtime and she must be getting hungry and… alright, he felt guilty.

When he slid back the lock, he half expected Allison to bust open the door and make a run for it. When nothing happened, he cracked it open and found her much in the same position he'd left her in.

"Thought you might like a sandwich," Dean said, holding up a plate of food like a peace offering and taking a few tentative steps into the dimly lit room.

She didn't lift her head, but her eyes narrowed at him as she said, "You thought wrong."

"Hey, come on, don't be like that." He padded over and perched on the corner of the bed, waving the stack of meat and carbs in front of her. Her eyes followed the food, but he frowned when he got no further reaction. "If not for you…" he trailed off, giving a pointed glance to her midsection.

With a heavy sigh, Allison pushed herself up to a seated position and snatched the plate from Dean's grasp. "What is it?"

"Uh, turkey. Turkey's safe, right? " He knew there were some things pregnant women weren't supposed to eat, but he was pretty sure processed poultry was not one of them.

"Fine, Dean. It's fine."

She nibbled on one side of the sandwich in silence before Dean couldn't keep his mouth shut any longer. "So, Sam. He's—is he…?" Allison raised her eyebrows at him, as if she didn't already know the question he wanted to ask. He let out an angry huff. "Is Sam the father?" She continued to stare at him with wide, innocent eyes. "Of… of your baby?" Allison placed the half-eaten sandwich back on the plate, focusing all her attention on the task; as the silence stretched on Dean started getting twitchy. "Allison—"

"Yes."

The word was quiet, and he almost missed it. Once it registered, Dean released a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. It was both a relief and a thorn in his side, that knowledge. "We should probably… you're gonna need to talk to him at some point." Her eyes flashed to his and narrowed at the suggestion. "He knows, now, about… about you, and the, uh—well, he knows, and—"

"And there's not a goddamn thing I want to say to him."

Dean sighed; he understood where she was coming from, but that didn't change the current situation. "If I'm gonna be watchin' your six for the next however many months, well Sam and I are kind of a package deal. Not to mention you two are, you know, having a kid together." Allison crossed her arms petulantly and Dean stifled a groan. "Look, about what happened in California… he told me –"

"Don't."

"Allison, you know what Sam did was –"

"I said _don't_ ," she hissed, glaring at him now. The anger quickly went out of her, though, and a flicker of exasperation flashed across her face before she raced across the room in a few long strides, reaching the small bathroom in just enough time to expel the few bites of turkey sandwich into the toilet.

Even when there was nothing left in her stomach, she coughed and heaved nothing but air and stomach acid for several awful minutes. When the gastrointestinal spasms finally stopped, she slumped onto her butt and leaned against the porcelain tub. Dean had readied a cold, damp washcloth and pressed it against her forehead as he situated himself beside her in the small space.

"You know the thing Sam killed wasn't your mother." He looked over at Allison; she had her eyes closed, but he knew she was listening. "You know that."

Allison's father had been a hunter; hell, she had even experimented with the profession on occasion. So yes, the rational part of her knew that what she'd seen was a hunter making the world a little safer by ridding it of a dangerous supernatural creature. However, the emotional part of her – the part that seemed to control her memories, which annoyingly kept flashing to the forefront of her consciousness – kept skipping over that part and instead chose to linger on the image of Sam chopping off the head of the woman who'd raised her.

"I know," she whispered, pulling the now lukewarm cloth from her face and picking at a loose thread at the corner. "I miss her, Dean. God, I miss her so much. She's the only family I got. And she'll never get to meet –" Her words were cut short by a choked sob. Dean's hand found its way to hers and he interlaced their fingers, giving her an encouraging squeeze. "She should be here, Dean. I can't do this without her." She let go of him and buried her face in her hands. "I can't do this alone."

Dean frowned and his lips stuck out in a dissatisfied pout. "You're not alone," he stated, very matter-of-factly. He'd thought that was quite obvious. Allison tried to get up, but Dean tugged gently on her forearm; she looked into his confused – and almost… hurt? – eyes as he repeated, "You're not alone."

She smiled sadly and got down on her knees in front of him. "I'm only here because Castiel ordered you to find me and protect me." Allison glanced down and placed one hand beneath her bellybutton. "Protect us," she corrected herself.

"Cas can't force me to do anything I don't want to do." There were so many things he wanted to say to her, so many things she needed to hear, and he was fucking it all up in a garbled mess.

"Right," she indulged, removing his hand from her arm and standing to her feet. "Well, either way, whenever this mysterious 'threat' against us is eliminated – once we're safe – we'll be on our own again." Allison tried to smile, but the tears stinging at the corner of her eyes belied the gesture.

"Allison," Dean shook his head, trying to wrap his mind around what she was implying. She had already started walking out of the bathroom, and he pushed himself to his feet to follow.

"No, it's fine. Really, Dean, we'll be okay," she put on another forced smile even though Dean was behind her, as if the act would actually elicit some genuine happy feelings within her. "I can do this." She was telling herself as much as the other man in the room.

"Allison?" Dean asked again once her rationalizations had devolved into incoherent mumbling. He stepped in front of her and hooked a finger under her chin, forcing her to look up into his worried green eyes. He fumbled with his thoughts for a few seconds, afraid that he would say the wrong thing, before her expectant gaze caused his thoughts to tumble out unfiltered. "You and that kid you got cookin' in there? You're family now. Take it or leave it – I'm not gonna tell you what to do. But me and Sam will always be here when you need us. Always."

She wasn't sure whether she actually believed him, or that she wanted to believe him so badly that she convinced herself that she did. But while there weren't a whole lot of things the Winchesters got right, the strength and effort they put into family loyalty was unrivaled. She nodded once and Dean led her back over to the bed. Allison sat down, but didn't let go of Dean even as he turned to leave.

"Stay with me?" It was the most heartbreaking sound Dean had ever heard – a plea and a cry and a whimper, so soft and fragile that the sound could have broken upon leaving her lips.

Wordlessly, and without ever breaking physical contact, Dean nudged her to a horizontal position and climbed into the bed behind her. Allison shimmied back against him, using his shoulder as her pillow. Before Dean realized what he was doing, he had draped his arm over her waist, his large hand absently resting on her abdomen.

He tried hastily to extricate his arm, but she pressed her hands over his and held it firmly in place. Tears dripped onto his bicep as she shook with silent sobs, and he couldn't tell if they were happy or sad. Allison herself wasn't even sure; she just knew that she felt safe, and supported, and loved in a way she never thought she could again, and she prayed that it was a feeling she could hold onto.


	10. Chapter 10

It was well into the night when Allison awoke again, much in the same position she'd fallen asleep. Dean's arms were still wrapped protectively around her, and she allowed herself a single moment of blissful delusion that she was safe, that her child was safe, and that maybe, just maybe, this was only the beginning of a lifetime of being held by those arms. It was a nice, if slightly premature, little fantasy, but she knew better than to believe in all the things that would have to go right in order to make it a reality.

She was forced from her thoughts by a particularly insistent rumble in her stomach, and was surprised to find that instead of the nausea she had become so accustomed to, Allison was actually hungry. She quietly extricated herself from Dean's grasp, having had enough practice in adolescent rebellion to know how to sneak away without detection, and with one last longing look stepped out into the hall.

It took a few wrong turns and a bit of backtracking, but eventually Allison found her way to the kitchen. As she peered into the fridge, it became very apparent why cereal had been the only option for breakfast. Choosing to forego the questionable milk, she simply snagged the closest box on the shelf and popped open the top. It must have been one of Dean's picks, as the contents appeared to be dusted in cinnamon and sugar crystals, and she placed an experimental square on her tongue. When her body didn't immediately protest, she took the snack out to the living room and flopped onto the nearest couch.

It was several minutes – and a few giant fistfuls of sugary cereal – later when a noise to her left nearly caused her to fall out of her seat. Unbeknownst to Allison, Sam had already been occupying an armchair in the living room, and the shifting of his weight on the leather furniture was enough to startle a handful of cereal onto the floor.

"Jesus!" she gasped, pressing a hand to her racing heart and taking a few steadying breaths before reaching down to start collecting the scattered bits of food.

"Sorry, sorry," Sam muttered, kneeling down and cupping his large hands together as a receptacle for her.

"It's… fine," she said, dropping the soiled cereal into his hands without making contact with his skin. "Just didn't see you there."

"Are you going to punch me again?" he asked, looking up at her with a shy smile. Allison's eyes were carefully studying the brightly colored box in her hands, but she shook her head slowly in response. "I wouldn't blame you," he added before toting the contents of his hands to the trashcan and resuming his previous position in the chair. "I really am sorry."

"I know. It's- I understand." It would be easier to blame him, but in the end she knew he did the right thing. And more importantly, blaming him wouldn't actually change anything. "My dad, he was a hunter. He never really talked about it, but he was gone a lot. Always came back with a few more scars and a heavier reliance on alcohol as a coping mechanism."

Sam snorted. "Been there."

It was unclear as to why she was sharing such details of her life with a man she wasn't entirely sure she didn't hate, but something about the gentle way he was looking at her, the sincere way he spoke, made her want to open up to him. Maybe he deserved it. Or maybe she did. "Mom always begged him to stay, but he promised he would always return. Which he did. Dozens, maybe even hundreds of times."

"Until he didn't," Sam concluded knowingly.

Allison nodded. "I was okay, but mom was a wreck after that. He didn't… well, me and him were never that close. He always kept me at arm's length." Little Allison used to blame herself for that, thinking maybe she wasn't good enough or smart enough. She knew better now, but she was sure a single trip to a therapist's office would be all it would take to crack open her deep-seated daddy issues. "I'm not sure he ever really loved me – not like mom did. But he provided for us, and that was enough."

Sam really had no right to offer his opinion on the situation, but his family had been dysfunctional enough growing up for him to be able to offer some insight. "There's a reason hunters don't often settle down. The work is bloody, and dangerous, and… sometimes it's easier to push people away than risk hurting them when a job inevitably goes sideways. So maybe he was showing you how much he loved you, in his own way." It wasn't much solace, so he was surprised when Allison's gaze went distant and her eyes turned glassy.

"Then he should've stayed. He should've stayed with us."

Sam cleared his throat, suddenly overcome by the emotion etched into Allison's pained features. "Yeah. Yeah, you deserved that." He then decided to offer the only justification he'd ever found comforting in the lonely solitude of hunting life. "But think about all the people he must have saved. How many fathers must have come home to their daughters because of the work he did."

A few tears slipped out and ran down her cheeks, and Sam got up from his seat to take a position beside her on the couch. Instead of pushing him away as he'd expected, Allison leaned into his side and rested her head on his shoulder, a hand unconsciously traveling to her stomach.

Sam eyed her for a moment before deciding to risk further vulnerability. "You can talk about it, you know. The baby. If you want."

Allison was quiet for a long moment – long enough that he had given up hope of her answering – when she took in a shuddering breath and began telling Sam some of what had happened since she'd seen him last.

"Castiel knew before I did. I didn't believe him at first. I was still outta my mind with grief, and the idea that a warrior of heaven was keeping tabs on my reproductive system was just… it was too much." It had taken several bouts of morning sickness and six positive pregnancy tests before she had finally relented to the possibility. "I thought the first demon attack was just a random one-off – the family name still elicits the occasional run-in with the supernatural. But then the angels came." She flinched at the memory of having a blade shoved into her chest cavity, narrowly missing her heart. "I would've been screwed if Castiel hadn't ignored my previous demands to quit stalking me."

"Yeah, he can be a little… persistent when he wants to be."

"He can be a pain in the ass, you mean."

Sam laughed, the movement shaking them both. "But an endearing, mostly beneficial pain in the ass," he clarified.

Allison hummed in agreement. "Once we were safe for the time being, he relayed the whole damning prophesy about the six ways from Sunday I was royally fucked."

"Yeah, Dean mentioned something about the whole angel/demon bloodline thing."

"According to Castiel, some angel named Balthazar had apparently broken the rules and had a kid with a human. Then that kid went on to make other kids, and so on and so forth until I came into being." She rolled her head to the side to look up at him. Sam was smiling at the thought of Balthazar giving a big 'fuck you' to the powers that be by engaging in an illegal tryst with a woman – that certainly sounded like him. "That was all a few hundred years ago, but I guess there was still some traces of angel juice left for me." She shrugged and her voice became tentative. "Guess that means you're, uh, the demon half of this equation."

Sam almost laughed at the nervous and wary expression on her face, as if his eyes might turn black at any moment. But then he realized that that was a very legitimate fear for her to have, and decided instead to offer the very rational, if abbreviated, version of the circumstances surrounding his demonic connection.

Just as Allison had opened up about her past, Sam found himself explaining about his mother's deal with yellow-eyes, her later death, his psychic visions, his death, and the deal Dean made to bring him back. There was so much more to the story, but he didn't want to overwhelm her with the gory details of his everyday life.

Allison let out a breathless chuckle. "And that was the short version?" She considered this information – the fact that neither of them were particularly angelic or demonic. And yet, somehow a combination of coincidence and carelessness had resulted in the creation of an innocent child with a huge target on its back.

"It's not fair," she whispered, more tears springing unbidden to her eyes.

Sam wrapped his large hand around hers and Allison's body curled into him slightly, instinctively seeking out a lifeline despite the fact that she was pissed off enough at him to sock him in the jaw less than 24 hours ago.

"I know this isn't ideal. But you're here now. You're safe. We'll figure the rest out."

It didn't feel right to accept comfort from the man whose life she had just turned upside down and she unfurled her body from his. "I'm sorry. I know… this is probably not something you wanted for your life."

Sam was thoughtful for a moment, his response quiet. "That's- that's not exactly true. I mean, yeah, monsters and babies don't exactly mix well together, but… well, I'd be lying if I said I never wanted a family."

"Sam—"

"I know. We're not, like, _family_ family. We barely even know each other. But… well, no, you are kinda family. And I'm- I understand if you hate me. Really. And I can try to stay out of your way if that's what you need. I know this is a lot. I mean, it's a lot for me and I'm not even—I mean, I haven't—" Sam cleared his throat; they both knew that, at least thus far, she had gotten the short end of the stick in this whole ordeal. "Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I'm here. I'll be here for you, and for- for our child."

Dean had said something very similar, and Sam's shy way of offering support was almost enough to make her smile. "Castiel. He, um- he thinks I should give the baby up."

The idea made Sam's heart squeeze, though he knew he had no right to feel that way. "And what do you think?"

She did smile then – he and Dean were so very much alike – and gave an answer similar to the one she'd given his brother. "I think the angels and demons all know who I am. They know how to find me. And I think… I'm afraid that me being a part of this child's life would be a death sentence." Though she didn't say it out loud, what she was most afraid of was that she might just be too selfish to care… that she was already too attached and in love and wouldn't be strong enough to let it go even if that was what was best for it.

"Well, as someone who has had it out for them literally since before they were even born, I can say from experience that crap happens. But… when it comes down to it, no one can decide your fate but you." There were so many times that the world tried to force the Winchesters to simply play their parts in the universe's grand play. And just as many times that they had effectively told the world to shove it. "The choices you make, the people you surround yourself with… the things you decide are worth fighting for? That's what makes the difference."

For the first time since… well, really since the first night she'd spent with Sam, Allison allowed hope to bloom in her heart. Everything about this whole situation sucked, but maybe it would suck a little less if she ended up being able to watch her child grow up.

At some point during their exchange, Dean had awoken to an empty bed and the sounds of soft voices from the other room. He shouldn't have been eavesdropping, but still caught the tail end of the conversation – one that he was pretty sure he'd had with Allison before. At the time, Dean had responded the way he always did, with an intense passion that was somewhere between anger and desperation. But Sam… Sam was better with this. With her.

It was then that Dean decided he shouldn't – couldn't – keep listening. He shuffled back down the hallway and debated about which room to go into. The rational part of his brain told him to climb into his own bed. Aghast at the sudden surge of jealousy that had washed over him, that same part of his brain was also kind enough to remind him that Sam was the father of Allison's baby and that the growing connection he'd witnessed between them was a good thing. That if he wanted to do the right thing, he should step out of the way and let things unfold naturally between her and his brother.

Dean marched back into Allison's room and flopped down onto the bed.

Sam and Allison had been sitting in companionable silence for a while before the unhealthy cereal she'd consumed earlier threatened to turn on her. She didn't want to shatter such a rare moment of intimacy, but had been victimized too many times by her digestive system to ignore the subtle churning in her gut.

Allison made a hasty exodus to retrieve the quickly dwindling supply of ginger candies from her bag, which had been hastily deposited in one of the chairs surrounding the massive mahogany table that usually served as a research desk. She popped a few in her mouth and closed her eyes, leaning forward with her hands on the edge of the table as she took measured breaths in and out through her nose.

Sam had raced after her, but now was hovering awkwardly at her back, not really sure what was going on or how he could help. If she even needed help.

After a minute or so, Allison's stomach had settled enough that she could open her eyes again. She offered Sam a weary smile. "The term ' _morning_ sickness' is incredibly misleading," she explained.

Sam swallowed hard, not quite sure what to do with this information. In the end, he decided to just file away the information for later when he could pick up more of whatever it was that had helped alleviate the nausea.

"Have you been to the doctor? About that?" He wasn't exactly up-to-date on pregnancy-related prescriptions, but surely modern medicine was advanced enough by now for them to have created some sort of drugs to relieve such a common symptom.

Allison shook her head. "Too dangerous." She shuddered involuntarily at the memory of the one time she had tried to go see an OB/GYN on her own. She'd had some light spotting during a time when the angel had left her alone for longer than intended, and the price of finding out that this was normal and nothing to be concerned about was a body count in the double digits. "And don't want to leave a paper trail."

Sam wanted to say something, but it wasn't really his place. Maybe if he'd been there for her from the beginning… But no, he couldn't let his thoughts travel down that path. "That must be hard. Not, uh… not knowing what's going on. In there."

She shrugged. "Castiel looks in on the little one from time to time. Makes sure everyone's healthy and growing like they're supposed to." Sam worried his bottom lip between his teeth; she wasn't sure why he looked so nervous until his next question came stilted and stuttering out of his mouth.

"Is it- can I see?"

She wasn't exactly sure what he meant, but his eyes were trained on her midsection. "I mean, I… I guess?" It wasn't anything he hadn't seen before anyway. "Nothing much there yet, but knock yourself out." She made the joke to try and ease some of the awkwardness out of the situation as she gently lifted the hem of her shirt, but it instantly went back to serious as Sam knelt down so that he was at eye level with her bellybutton.

Allison was right – there wasn't an easily identifiable bump yet, but still… there was a roundness between her prominent hip bones that he was sure hadn't before been present on her small frame. He reached his hand out instinctively, his fingers twitching with the desire to make some kind of contact with his growing child, but pulled it back quickly when he realized what he was doing.

With a level of trust that surprised them both, Allison grabbed his wrist and completed the trajectory, flattened his palm across the tiny swell.

"It's… harder than I expected." She laughed, deeply enough that he could feel her abdominal muscles contracting beneath his hand, and suddenly he felt like a total idiot. "I mean- it's like, solid. I didn't—"

"It's okay, Sam. It's… weird. But it's okay."

He removed his hand and rose to his feet, a slight redness still coloring his cheeks and the tips of his ears. "Thanks. Um, for that." She nodded around a yawn, the exhaustion of late night conversation – and, well, growing a human – finally catching up with her. "You should get some sleep."

She wanted to protest about being mothered, but honestly, he was right. Pregnancy was weird like that – one minute you could be bursting with frantic energy and the next you're out like a light.

When Allison padded carefully back into her room, she found Dean curled up on one side of the bed facing toward the center, as if just waiting for another body to curl around. She stared at him for a few moments, trying to determine if and how she could sneak back under the comfortor without waking him, when his gruff, sleepy voice dashed any plans she might have been making.

"You and Sammy work things out, or am I gonna have to realign his nose in the morning?" he asked without opening his eyes.

Allison sighed and climbed into the empty space between his arms, which closed around her and held her tight against his chest. His hand found its way to her stomach, and it struck her just how easy, how natural it was for them to fall into this position. "It's… we're good."

"Good," he mumbled, seeming to fall back asleep almost instantly.

As Allison drifted back off to sleep, the nightmares never came. Instead, her unconscious thoughts drifted to potential futures she hadn't before allowed herself to consider – thoughts that involved children's laughter, holiday celebrations, a real home.

Family.

And when Allison woke up, it was with a smile on her face.

Followed quickly by an insistent and incessant urge to throw up.


End file.
